The Three of Us
by EGB Fan
Summary: A character piece, looking in on the adult Oscar and his family. Or should that be families?


**Disclaimer: **Based upon characters created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. John and Eden Spengler, Eric Stantz, TJ Anderson and Marie Lupin are creations of Fritz Baugh, and used with his kind permission.

Rated M for some strong language, occasional sex references and moderate sexual content.

This story is a lengthy character piece based on Fritz Baugh's _Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline _(www. ectozone. com - without the spaces of course) and set in the 2020+ era of this fanfiction universe. If you have not been following these stories, and/or if you have no interest in our imagined future of _Ghostbusters_, you are advised to stop reading now, with the author's full blessing and understanding.

To the rest of you, please enjoy.

_Ghostbusters: _**The Three of Us**

**May 2021**

"How many naked and half-naked people do you have to bring food trolleys to before you learn to keep a straight face like that?"

Hayden Wallance was sitting up in bed, naked, because he wasn't the one who was hungry enough to call room service. Jessica Venkman had answered the door wearing an oversized t-shirt that reached her knees, so she wasn't _quite_ half-naked, but near enough.

"I would think about six," she said, examining the contents of the trolley. "You want some pizza?"

"Why the hell not?"

"And a Coke?"

"Thanks," said Hayden, taking the specified items from Jessica as she climbed back into bed beside him. "You know I used to work in a chip shop when I was sixteen? Well I once got disciplined for laughing at a middle-aged woman when she came in and said, 'Can I have one of your big sausages please?'"

Jessica almost choked on her pizza with laughter. It took her a while to calm down, and to chew and swallow, and then she said, "How are you supposed to not laugh at _that_? They shouldn't have disciplined you - what did they do?"

"Well," said Hayden, "she left without buying anything, so they took the price of a big sausage out of my wages."

Jessica started laughing again. That was one of the things she loved about him: even at twenty-seven he didn't consider himself too old to laugh at phrases like "big sausage".

"It must be a fascinating job, mustn't it?" he said. "Waiting on the honeymoon suite."

"Must it?" Jessica garbled through a mouthful of pizza. "Why?"

"Well, think of all the different couples you'd see. You couldn't do his job if you weren't having regular sex, could you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"He gets to see all these dozens of different couples at one single solitary stage of their whole lives together," Hayden went on. "It'd drive me mad, wondering how they met and what the marriage was going to be like and whether it would even last…"

"He probably tries to guess how we all got to this stage and makes up stupid stories."

Hayden swallowed before speaking, and then said, "He'll never guess _our_ story in a million years."

"You don't think he's figured out we're the half-brother and -sister of Mood Slime's front man?"

"Well," said Hayden, "he might have."

He tipped the dregs of his Coke down his throat, and put the can down on the dresser beside him. Jessica wondered if the hurry meant that he was beginning to want to make love again. It was amazing, the way they could switch capacities from best friends to lovers in the blink of an eye. She started on another slice of pizza. She'd be more than willing, once she'd taken the edge off her hunger.

"There's more to it than that, though," said Hayden.

Jessica, chomping her way through the pizza, nodded mutely. Honestly, the whole thing was madness. Their relationship was just so damn _intense_, and always had been. She had carried a powerful hatred for him throughout her childhood and into her teenage years, never once suspecting that he fantasised about making love to her on a daily basis. It wasn't _just_ that she didn't like him. She simply could not imagine a nice, agreeable boy like him being in any way sexual. But then, the first time he persuaded her into bed with him, he proved to be the most passionate lover she had ever had, and ever would have.

There were others, at least for her, but they always seemed to gravitate back towards each other. For a very long time, she'd refused to believe she was falling in love with him. It was just the sex, she told herself constantly, and it wasn't so hard to believe. She came to love everything about his body: his touch, his taste, his smell, the sounds he made… Sometimes she couldn't tell whether he was saying "yes" or "Jess", but that hardly mattered. He made her feel good about herself, too. There were parts of her body she didn't like very much - parts that he couldn't leave alone, and after a while she stopped wanting him to. His habit of nipping and pinching the fleshier parts of her, and clearly enjoying himself, eventually made her come to dislike them less.

And through it all, whenever she was with him - through all the kissing and caressing and the moans and sighs - she was promising herself that this would be the last time, while he was promising himself just as fervently that it would not. Needless to say, he always won. But now it wasn't a competition anymore. They had been in bed when he suddenly had the idea of asking her to marry him, and did so right there and then, before she had even caught her breath. Perhaps he knew it was a good time to ask. It didn't occur to her not to say yes straightaway.

"Ok, baby." She tossed the Coke can to one side and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. "That'll keep me going for a while," and she started to kiss him.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"You know what they're doing _right now_, don't you?"

"Jesus Christ!"

Oscar understandably hadn't expected to be spoken to immediately upon stepping out of the shower in an otherwise deserted bathroom. He grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his waist, wondering how much it should bother him that an irritating little orange demon had now - to his knowledge - seen him naked.

"Are you _ever_ going to leave me alone?" Oscar asked irritably.

"I might," said the demon. It was perching on the edge of the basin, of all places, swinging its legs. "If you make peace with it."

"I _have_ made peace with it."

"Pants on fire, Oscar. Oh…" - it smirked - "but you aren't wearing any. _I_ know _exactly_ what they're doing right now this second."

"Do you?" Oscar said wearily.

"Ah-ha." It paused briefly, then went on, "I know what it is. You feel guilty."

"Will you _please_ leave me alone?"

"You're allowed to feel guilty," said the demon. "It _is _your fault, after all."

"What's my fault?"

"Oh, all of it. All the animosity. That they went through all kinds of pain and aguish before she realised their love was just too big to hide…"

"Shut up."

"It's your fault _I'm _here, you know."

"It doesn't bother me," said Oscar. "I love them both, and now he's happy and she's happy, and they'll be good to each other and I am _completely _ok with it. Now will you _please_ leave?"

"And," said the demon, "you're jealous. You wish _you_ had what they have."

"Everyone wishes they had what they have."

"Not everyone, Oscar. Some people believe that single people are complete people."

"Suppose it takes me another, I don't know, five or six years to get used to the idea. Are you going to be hanging around until then?"

The demon shrugged. "Possibly. But I really can't guarantee anything, Oscar - I'm just a demon. I don't decide these things."

"No?" Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Who _does_ decide?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's some crazy woman with a weird imagination and a bit of a thing for long-haired, blue-eyed rock musicians. That _would_ explain why you're naked right now."

"You," said Oscar, "talk a _lot_ of crap."

"But I don't, though," the demon said calmly. "He _is_ good for her, you know."

"I know! How many more times? I KNOW HE IS!"

The demon smiled annoyingly at him. "Temper temper, Oscar."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**One Week Earlier**

"Hey!" Jessica clambered over the arm of the couch and sat down heavily. "Guess what."

John Spengler looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Guess."

"Can I have a clue?"

"No, just guess."

"Um…"

"I knew you wouldn't get it," grinned Jessica, looking up when TJ Anderson and Marie Lupin made an entrance, probably wanting to know what somebody was being so enthusiastic about in the rec room. "Hi, you two."

She'd met them once before, and somehow ended up in a situation that wound up with her and Marie top-and-tailing on the couch at the firehouse - the very same couch, in fact, that Jessica was now sitting on. (TJ had abstained from that little adventure, so Jessica didn't know her very well yet.)

"Hello," said TJ.

"What's all the shouting?" asked Marie.

"I'm getting married on Saturday."

John raised his eyebrows. "Are you? Already?"

"All being well, yes."

"Congratulations," said TJ.

"Thanks," said Jessica. "Now listen, I have to go on this honeymoon thing for a week after we're married, so I need some people to look in on my house while I'm away. Oscar's going on Monday, Mom and Dad said they'd do Tuesday and I called the Millers and they said one or more of them would go on Thursday. So I just need somebody to check up on it on Wednesday and Friday."

"Your house? Why?" asked TJ.

"She's a property developer," Marie said knowingly. Somehow, she had managed to pick up Jessica's entire life story. She knew the whole Hayden saga, and thought it was hilarious. "Will there be builders there, Jess?"

"Of course," said Jessica.

"I'll take Wednesday _and_ Friday."

"Listen, Marie - you can do whatever the hell you like with the labourers, just as long as the work gets done. I'm going to e-mail you the schedule later today, ok? You just need to nip down there in the afternoons and make sure it's all been done, and if it _hasn't_ been done you need to find out why and make a note of it."

"Yeah, sure, fine," Marie said dismissively, making herself comfortable in a vacant armchair. "Are we invited to the wedding?"

Jessica shook her head. "Immediate family only."

"So what do _we_ need to do?" asked John. "Party? Presents? Celebratory drinks?"

"Ooh, sounds good," said Jessica, giving him a bemused smile. "Why?"

"Well, because… because it's _you_. Getting _married_."

"You don't have to do anything, Johnny, honestly."

"So if we're not invited," said Marie, "when do TJ and I get to meet him?"

Jessica looked at her. "Why are you so anxious to meet him?"

"Because I've heard _rumours_ about you, Jessica Venkman. I want to meet this man who's so terrific that you're supposedly never going to need another one."

"Oh, well, all right," said Jessica. "I'll bring him over later this week or something. TJ, I've been wanting to introduce the two of you for ages - _you_ might appreciate the story about how he almost got us both beaten up outside a bar last month."

"Would I?" asked TJ. "Why?"

"It's funnier if you're English."

"Oh, is he English? Whereabouts is he from?"

For a moment, Jessica wondered how specific she was expected to be here. For some people just "England" was enough, and if not, "London" was quite sufficient. Suddenly Jessica was reminded of an admirable display of patience on Hayden's part during his student days, when they had for some reason been in the back of a cab together.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm from London."

"Where?"

"England."

"Where?"

"Britain."

"Oh."

But TJ was no New York cab driver. Like Hayden, she probably thought of London in its component parts, so Jessica said, "Chelsea."

"Oh," said TJ. "Well, anyway, I'd better be getting back to work. Nice to see you again."

"Hmm," Jessica said quietly, watching TJ walk away. "I'm not sure she meant that."

"Oh, she's all right," said Marie. "It's just British reserve."

"That's an appalling stereotype," said Jessica. "Hayden isn't _a bit_ reserved."

"How did he almost get you both beaten up outside a bar last month?" asked John.

"Oh, well," said Jessica, "we were at this bar, and as we were leaving there happened to be three pretty beefy men outside, and they unfortunately overheard Hayden saying, 'It smells of fags out here.'"

"_What_?" John and Marie exclaimed in unison.

"He meant cigarettes."

"Oh." Marie smirked. "That _is_ funny."

"Where's Eric and Edie?" Jessica asked suddenly. "I wanna tell them my news."

"You're excited, aren't you?" said John.

Jessica squared her shoulders and said nonchalantly, "Not especially."

"Yeah, right - you're only getting married, nothing's going to change…"

"That's right. Where are they?"

"Around," said Marie.

"Right." Jessica got to her feet. "I guess I'll go look for them, then. Later, Johnny. Marie, remember to check your e-mail for - "

"Your schedule, yeah, I know." A pause. "Jess?"

Jessica turned in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Would you recommend any builders in particular?"

"Chris," said Jessica. "He and I had a little thing going before Hayden came back - he's not bad. I'll see you guys later."

**.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

**Sunday**

Oscar wasn't feeling a hundred percent. He was putting it down to stress. There was a lot of pressure on him to get composing for Mood Slime's next album, but he wasn't feeling inspired because he was on the verge of breaking up with his current girlfriend, a honey-skinned goddess called Julia - and perhaps also because he was feeling a little strange about the impending wedding of his sister and brother.

Perhaps what bothered him most, Oscar now realised, was that all the years he had spent trying to be like a brother to Hayden were now a complete waste. The two of them were currently sitting at the kitchen table in Hayden and Jessica's apartment. Peter Venkman, Oscar's stepfather, was also there, and somehow seemed to have ended up preparing dinner while Hayden and Oscar discussed their father and brother. It was _almost_ like old times - but ever since Oscar had found out that Hayden and Jessica were together, their relationship could never be the same again.

"Y'know, Dad's actually not that bad," said Hayden, after a minute or two of listening politely as Oscar dragged Andre Wallance through the coals.

"Yeah, I know," said Oscar. "He's ok _most_ of the time. In fact I've been known to go for _years_ thinking, why am I so hard on the guy? But then suddenly he does something, or says something that just…"

"Yeah, well, he and Lars are talking again now," said Hayden.

"I should hope they are - he's had damn near a year to get used to the idea of having a gay son," said Oscar.

"Y'know," Peter chimed in, closing the oven door on four sizeable potatoes, "I can't understand why it came as such a shock to him. I mean, the guy's got four kids - the chances were _one_ of you was going to be gay."

"I once spent a few weeks thinking I might be gay," Oscar said casually.

Peter started. "_What_? When?"

"Around when I turned fourteen, when you made us all move here. It was a confusing time for me, Dad."

"I thought you'd forgiven me for that," said Peter.

"I have," said Oscar, "but I still think it was a shitty thing to do."

At that point the front door clicked open, and they all looked up, expecting Jessica to walk into the room. She did, but not before she had stood out in the hallway long enough to let out a scream of frustration.

"Are you all right?" asked Hayden, as she entered the kitchen looking very harassed.

"I wanna die," groaned Jessica, collapsing onto the chair beside Oscar and burying her face in his shoulder.

"What's up, Jess?" he asked bracingly.

"Your mother is driving me crazy, Oscar. Quick catch-up over a cup of coffee my ass." She raised her head again, and looked accusingly at Peter. "Did _you_ know she was bringing Janine and Kaila?"

"I had no idea," said Peter.

"_Your_ _wife_," Jessica said hotly, "wants me to postpone the wedding until I'm 'absolutely sure'I don't want to go the whole nine yards with it. I must have told her a bazillion times that I've _always_ been absolutely sure, but she _will_ _not listen_! Do you _know_ what they _did_?"

"What did they do, honey?" Peter asked obligingly.

"They sat there with their cups of coffee and their manicured nails and started planning this imaginary wedding. I tell you, it sounded absolutely hideous. Hey - did you guys know you can't buy your shoes until after you've decided on your dress?"

"Can't you?" asked Hayden. "Why not?"

"Because you need to know how much of your feet people will be able to see. If you wear open-toed shoes and people can see part of your feet, it looks like you've got bare feet. I mean, _so the fuck what_? So then what happens? Just when I think they've forgotten about me and it'd be safe to make a discreet exit, Mom turns round and says, 'Doesn't that sound wonderful, honey? _You_ should do something like that.' I wanted to hit her, I _really_ did. Why can't she just respect my wishes?"

"I don't remember her making as much fuss about our wedding as she'd like to with yours," remarked Peter.

"Well you can bet your ass she _did_," said Jessica. "Nobody ever talks to men about that shit - they assume they don't wanna hear it. That's why none of you realise _quite_ how stupid women _are_ about weddings."

"Aren't you being a little bit sexist, Jess?" asked Hayden.

"Probably," said Jessica. "I'm just beginning to think that maybe some of these vast generalisations people make about women might be justified. I mean, none of _you_ guys are badgering me to have a big wedding - not even _you_," she added, looking at Hayden.

"You're getting on with _my_ mum, though, aren't you?" asked Hayden, sounding anxious for the right answer.

"Well, I suppose the real test will come when she flies over on Thursday," said Jessica. "But yes, she and I seem to be getting along fine. She's actually really nice, your mom."

Hayden looked faintly amused. "Yes, I know."

"I _know_ she's into weddings and shit, but she hasn't made one suggestion about ours."

"She respects your wishes, Jess," said Hayden. "She's very anxious for you to like her, you know."

"Well," said Jessica, "I suppose she's saving herself for if Emi ever gets married."

"Oh, she will," said Oscar. "She's been planning her wedding since she was five."

"There, you see?" said Jessica. "That's just the kind of attitude that gets you into a bad marriage. Mom and Janine and Kaila were all subtly implying that if you don't make an effort with the wedding it doesn't bode well for the marriage. I mean, what a load of absolute bull! And I don't know why Mom's even bothering - she's already had two of her own. Oh, that reminds me." Jessica suddenly dropped her embittered tone of voice as she pulled a very small object out of her jean pocket. Holding it out to Hayden, she asked, "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, it's a ring," said Hayden.

"It's the engagement ring your dad gave to my mom."

Hayden raised his eyebrows. "Oh, that _is_ interesting."

He took the ring from Jessica and began to examine it very closely. Oscar sat up a little, trying to get a closer look, but he couldn't really see very much from where he was.

"Oh my God, it's huge!" exclaimed Peter.

"Bigger than yours, Dad," said Oscar. He couldn't tell exactly what the stone was, but he could see that it was bigger and shinier than anything he had ever given to a girlfriend.

"Well," Jessica said tartly, "that just goes to show that the ring is no measure of the marriage, contrary to popular belief."

"Can I see that, Hayd?" asked Oscar.

"Sure," said Hayden, passing the ring across the table.

"You can keep it, Oscar - I sure as hell don't want it," said Jessica.

"Do you know how much that cost?" asked Hayden.

Jessica looked at him. "No. Do you?"

"I do, actually. It cost eight thousand dollars. That's the same number of pounds he spent on Mum's - so I guess that means he spent more on her."

"That," said Jessica, shaking her head incredulously, "is absolutely insane."

"It's a lot of dollar bills to stuff down the toilet, isn't it?" added Peter.

"What kind of stone is this?" asked Oscar, not taking his eyes from the ring.

"God, I don't know," said Hayden. "You're in a room with three of the least qualified people in the world to ask about jewellery. Dad might have told me when he was telling me all about how he spent eight thousand dollars on it, but I really can't remember."

"Why _were_ you and Andre talking about engagement rings?" Jessica asked suspiciously.

Hayden smiled apologetically. "You don't wanna know, babe."

"Oh, I see. Was he trying to persuade you that I'd want one?"

"He subscribes to the when-women-say-no-they-mean-yes theory."

"Ah - maybe _that's_ how he ended up married to Dana," quipped Peter.

"Doesn't Mom want this back, Jess?"

"No," said Jessica. "She won't sell it for some crazy nuts reason, so what the hell else is she supposed to do with it?"

"Maybe she should give it back to Dad," said Hayden. "He paid for it."

"It was a gift," said Jessica. "If he's dumb enough to give her something _so_ expensive…"

"I'm going to the bathroom," announced Oscar, and promptly did so. He was actually beginning to feel a little nauseous. Dana and Peter had both noticed that he wasn't quite himself when he arrived at the airport that morning, and wanted to fuss over him, but he had fobbed them off with the excuse of the new album causing him stress. For some reason he didn't want to tell them about his woman trouble, and he certainly didn't want Hayden and Jessica finding out yet. As strange as the whole thing was to him, he loved them both, and he didn't want to impose on their big day with his own problems.

Oscar quickly found that just being out of the room was enough to ease the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sat on the lid of the toilet seat, turning the ring over in his fingers and trying to imagine Andre buying it for his mother. Oscar quite agreed with Jessica about engagement rings. Love was invisible - it couldn't be set into a gold band, and you couldn't put a price on it. The love between Hayden and Jessica was worth a hell of a lot more than eight thousand dollars, which was just as well - apparently an eight-thousand-dollar love was worth three years of marriage and one discardable child.

"Don't tell me you're feeling an affinity with the ring."

Oscar looked up in surprise, and saw that a small orange demon was sitting on the edge of the bath. He stared at it for a few moments, and then said calmly, "So what if I am? We both represent the same lie."

"How true. So why didn't she put _you_ in the back of a drawer and forget about you for thirty-six years? Or thirty-three, more realistically. It might have made things easier on all of them."

"Yeah, I guess maybe it would have."

"They're good together, aren't they?" the demon went on chattily. "I like them. They're not all loved-up like _some_ couples."

"I thought maybe that was just for my benefit," said Oscar. "They must know it's weird for me, seeing them together."

"Don't be so egotistical," the demon retorted. "They're like that all the time. They have a good friendship."

"Mom and Andre had a good friendship," Oscar pointed out.

"Also true," said the demon, "but that was _all_ they had. With your half-siblings, the passion came first and the friendship later. That's the best way to do it. You can't just inject lust into an existing friendship - that's why your mother and father never really… _connected_. It's amazing you happened at all, really. I wonder what Andre was thinking of at the time - it certainly wasn't _her_."

Oscar, faintly shocked by this, said, "You don't mind what you say to people, do you!"

"Oh, well," said the demon, "I don't get the opportunity to talk much these days. Most of the other major players are happy with the match, you know - or resigned, at least. Dana just _loves_ Hayden. All Peter ever wanted was for the two of you to be happy, _especially_ her - oh don't look like that. Kate's the same, she just loves her son - and, believe it or not, so does Andre. I mean, as far as he's concerned, there are more suitable women out there than Jessica - but at least she's not black or from a council estate or a man, right?"

"I know all of this," Oscar said irritably.

"Lars is fine with it too - _you_ were the only problem, Oscar. Do you know how long they kept it quiet?"

"Does that really matter now?"

"The pain she put that boy through… ooh, it brought tears to my eyes! But he loved her so much, he just kept bouncing back up, all ready for her to knock him down again. And as much as she tried to push him away, she just couldn't let him go. You've never loved anyone that much, have you? You're too in love with your music to feel anything very much for another human being."

At this point Oscar stood up to leave, deciding that he had heard enough. But before he went, he couldn't help asking, "What about Emi?"

The demon smiled enigmatically. "Hasn't she told you what she thinks?"

"Not really, no."

"Ah, well - you'll be seeing her on Thursday, won't you?"

That sounded ominous, but Oscar determined not to dwell on it. He turned and made for the door - and then as soon as he was out of the room, he began to forget about the demon. It didn't seem to matter anymore. He looked down, opened his hand and saw that he was still holding his mother's ring. He began to wonder what he would do with it. He could hardly slip it on somebody's finger himself - whoever she was, she'd be insulted if he proposed to her with the charred remains of his parents' sham of a marriage.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**Monday**

"Hey." Marie stood behind Jessica and bent down to be on a level with her ear, taking her by surprise. "Mind if I join you?"

Jessica was drinking coffee with Hayden outside an inexpensive café, where they had spent the best part of Hayden's lunch hour (Jessica's lunch hour could be whenever the hell she wanted it, and could go on for an entire day if she so desired).

"Aren't you working?" asked Jessica, eyeing Marie's jumpsuit and very obvious array of ghost hunting equipment.

"Nah, just thought I'd take it all for a walk," said Marie, sitting down and smiling winningly at Hayden. "Hi. I'm Marie Lupin - I'm sort of a friend of Jessica's."

"Hayden Wallance," said Hayden. "I'm sort of a fiancé of Jessica's."

Marie's smile widened. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Have you?"

"Ah-ha. She talks about you all the time."

"I do not," argued Jessica.

"Well, ok, not _all_ the time," said Marie, still looking at Hayden. "She didn't tell me you were cute, though."

"Oh, I wonder why not," Hayden said earnestly. It wasn't the first time he'd been called cute. He rather preferred Jessica's choice of adjectives - she told him at least once a week that he was gorgeous and sexy - but cute was generally the more popular choice.

"I'm going to get another coffee," announced Jessica, rising to her feet. "You want anything, babe?"

"No thanks, I don't have time," said Hayden. "I've got to get back to work in a minute."

"Oh? What do you do?" asked Marie.

"I'm, er, sort of a social worker," said Hayden. "I work with young offenders."

"Yeah? What do you do with them?"

"He does everything for them," said Jessica. "He counsels them and he goes with them to court and he helps them kick their drug habits and he deals with irate parents who'll shift the blame onto anyone…"

"Jess thinks I work too hard," said Hayden.

"Does she?" asked Marie. "Why? From what I've heard it doesn't stop you working on _her_ after you get home."

"Marie," said Jessica.

"Yes?"

"Can I get you anything?"

"Er, yeah - get me the biggest cappuccino they've got. Please."

Jessica turned and disappeared into the café.

"She doesn't mind a _bit_, does she?" said Marie, turning back to Hayden.

"Mind what?"

"Me flirting with you."

"Oh, well, she's not possessive," said Hayden. "And she trusts me."

"Are you trustworthy?"

"Absolutely."

"Bummer," Marie said jokingly. "So do you _like_ your job? It sounds really stressful."

"Well, there are whole days when I do nothing but paperwork," said Hayden, "but it _can_ be very stressful. My second week on the job, I got a phone call in the middle of lunch on Sunday requesting that I go and talk one of my charges down from a tall building."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Marie. "Were you successful?"

"Well, she came down," said Hayden. "By which I mean she _walked_ down. Nothing quite like that has happened since, but it can get pretty hectic. I _do _like it, though, to answer your question. I tell you, it's a hell of a lot better than working in London or Newcastle - all I ever got there were petty shoplifters and happy-slappers."

"Happy-slappers?"

"Kids who beat people up and film it on their mobile phones and digital cameras."

Marie blinked. "Why?"

"I used to ask them that. The most popular answer was, 'It's a laugh.'"

"So what do you get now instead?"

"Oh," said Hayden, "all kinds. Vandals, drug users, drug dealers, muggers, car thieves, gun crime, knife crime… This afternoon I've got an appointment with a fourteen year old who tried to gas his stepmother while she was asleep."

"That sounds interesting."

"I'm sure it will be."

"How come you don't have to wear a suit?" asked Marie.

Hayden glanced down at his faded jeans and loose-fitting t-shirt, and smiled slightly. "It isn't just that I don't have to - I'm actually not _allowed_ to. I have to dress like a teenager because it's very important to try and make these kids like me."

Jessica reappeared just then, and dumped Marie's cappuccino on the table in front of her. Hayden stood up and said, "I'd better be getting to that attempted murderer, Jess."

"Oh, well, good luck," said Jessica, as he kissed her on the cheek.

"How are you getting there, Hayden?" asked Marie.

"I'm going to drive. I have a company car for house calls."

"Well," said Marie, "you might want to check it for gremlins first."

Hayden blinked. "Right, well, thanks for the heads-up. Bye, Jess. It was nice meeting you, Marie."

"It was _nice_," Marie said dryly, watching Hayden's retreating form. "Do you know, I don't think he was even _slightly_ tempted."

"Of course he wasn't," said Jessica. "I keep him more than satisfied."

"And he keeps _you_ more than satisfied, does he?"

"I told you, yes."

"Don't sound like that," said Marie. "He just doesn't seem the type, that's all."

Jessica squared her shoulders and said defensively, "He's very highly sexed actually."

"Is he?"

"Yes. God, Marie, why do I tell you this stuff?"

"Well, Jessica, perhaps you can sense how badly I want to know. I am _extremely_ curious about him."

"Why?" asked Jessica. "Because he can single-handedly satisfy my needs? What exactly _are_ these rumours that you've heard about me? Have you been told I'm some kind of nymphomaniac or something?"

"Oh, no, nothing that extreme," said Marie. "Only that you like… you know… stuff."

Jessica scowled. "I _do _like stuff. Hayden _has_ stuff. Plenty of stuff. Where the hell did you hear that, anyway?"

"You told me."

"Did I?"

"Yes, the other night."

"What else did I tell you?"

"Nothing much," said Marie.

"Well it's hardly a 'rumour' if I told you myself."

"Jess, if I'd known you were going to pick up on my every little - "

"So what else have you heard?"

Marie sighed resignedly. "_Somebody_ happened to mention that you've had, well… a fair few boyfriends."

"_What_?" exclaimed Jessica.

"Haven't you?"

"Well, I…"

"Oh Jess, come on - don't be offended," Marie said imploringly. "It's ok. If a man sleeps around, everyone thinks it's great - why should it be any different for us?"

"Well," said Jessica, "it shouldn't."

"Exactly. It's your body - you can put whatever and whoever you want into it. Not that I'm saying _you_ used to sleep around - I mean, I really don't know - "

"Marie, stop digging," said Jessica. "All right, I did, kind of - I don't mind telling you. I jumped straight into bed with Hayden, and I didn't even like him yet."

"I've slept with guys I didn't like," said Marie. "Only a couple, over the years. They were a little _too _cocky, y'know?"

"Hayden was never cocky. There's nothing wrong with him - he's terrific. I just didn't like him."

"And this was when you were nineteen and twenty?"

"Did I tell you everything?" asked Jessica, clearly struggling to remember.

"Not everything," said Marie. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, leaning forward eagerly. "You didn't give me any details."

"And I'm not going to," said Jessica.

"Oh - not any?"

"No."

"Well, just answer me one question, then. Was he _always_ fantastic in bed, even when he was nineteen?"

Jessica considered for a moment. The answer to that really depended on one's definition of "fantastic". The first few times she'd slept with Hayden hadn't been exactly earth-shattering, but it was always good, because he was willing to listen and learn. Jessica remembered their, what, fourth time together? Hayden would remember - he seemed to know these things. Anyway, it was the first time she had asked him to use his mouth.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Only… are you tracing the alphabet down there?"

"Er, yeah - it helps me figure out where the hotspots are."

"Oh."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"No, no, keep going."

"What are you smirking about?" Marie demanded. "Is that a yes?"

"It was always good," said Jessica. "It took some practice to get to where we are now. That's the thing, Marie - if you pick up a new guy, he has to start learning the buttons from scratch. But Hayden already knows."

"People say that," said Marie. "Well, words to that effect."

"It's true."

"If you say so. Y'know, I was hoping he'd look more like Oscar, but I guess that was pretty stupid of me - you never would have touched him with a barge pole if he looked like your brother, would you?"

That was an awkward question. If she wanted to, Jessica could point out the ways in which Hayden did actually look a little like Oscar. Most obviously they had the same brilliant blue eyes and slender frame, but there were subtler things as well: their smiles, their laughs, the odd mannerism…

"Certainly not," said Jessica. "Look, Marie, I do appreciate the way you haven't pestered me to introduce you to Oscar - I know you'd like me to."

Marie brightened visibly at these words.

"And I will," Jessica continued. "This week sometime, ok? But I want you to go easy on him. I don't want him to feel pressured or intimidated or anything - I think something's not quite right with him."

"What kind of not quite right?" Marie asked anxiously.

"Well, nothing serious, let's hope. I know he's feeling a little strange about me marrying Hayden, and that _could_ be all it is, but I don't know - I'm going to keep an eye on him."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**Tuesday**

Jessica had spent the afternoon ripping out kitchen units with Chris the builder. She wasn't happy about leaving the house for a week; the development was still in the early stages and there was absolutely no way it would be finished before she had to go away, so she just wanted to get as much done as possible while she was still there to supervise.

"What about this wall?" asked Chris, looking up at the wall that divided the ok-sized kitchen and a completely useless little box at the back of the house which the estate agent had advertised as a "utility room". "I thought you wanted to get it down today."

"I do," said Jessica. It was a little after five o'clock, and all of the labourers except for Chris had gone home. "And I will. I've got someone coming to help me."

"Oh yes?" said Chris. "It wouldn't be Mr. Right, would it? I well remember how you like to warm up before knocking down a wall."

"Unfortunately not," said Jessica, smirking ever so slightly. "He's just a friend."

"I don't mind staying to help."

"I'm not paying you overtime, Chris - go home."

"You could call your friend and tell him you don't need him."

Jessica looked at him cautiously. Was he _really_ suggesting that they hook up again for old times' sake? If she wanted to cheat on Hayden, she'd be perfectly safe doing it with Chris - he wouldn't care who she went home to afterwards.

"I just miss it," said Chris, catching something in her face (she wondered what) and shrugging it off. "We had a lot of fun, didn't we?"

"Yeah," said Jessica. "You're the second best sex I've ever had."

"Yeah, sure, I'll bet you say that to all your exes."

"No, honestly - just the ones I still see."

"Well, Jess, if you wanted to…"

"I don't."

Chris smiled placatingly. "Of course not. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

As Jessica watched him walk away, she couldn't help looking back on some of that fun they'd had so much of over the years. It even occurred to her that if Hayden had just stayed in England, or if he'd given up on her while she was still refusing to believe that there was anything even faintly resembling love between them, she and Chris might very well be undressing each other in that so-called utility room at that very moment.

Jessica didn't know how many sexual partners Hayden had had, but from the way he talked about his exes she was fairly confident that it was little more than four. When they first started sleeping together, when he was still a student and she had no idea there was so much money to be made from property development, he had told her a few times that he never had meaningless sex. She had told him that she did, and wasn't ashamed of it. If compared to Hayden's sexual history, her hit list had to be quite something. To her horror, Jessica realised that she couldn't even put an exact number on the men she had slept with. She'd lost count somewhere in the mid-teens.

Feeling suddenly rather sick, Jessica felt herself drawn into the utility room, where she found an unexpected visitor waiting for her. She stared down at it, and it gazed anxiously up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"About what?" asked Jessica.

"Marrying him."

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous."

"Then why am I here?" the demon asked shrilly.

"I don't know." She leant against the wall and lowered herself to the floor, where she sat hugging her knees. "You tell me."

"Do you remember me? We met… oh, must be about fourteen years ago now."

She shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel like a slut."

"Do you?" asked the demon. "Listen, you don't want to worry about what that Marie person said yesterday - she really strikes me as somebody who just talks a lot."

"She didn't _say_ anything," Jessica retorted. "Well, nothing very much. Just enough to remind me how I used to sleep with whoever the hell I felt like."

"So what? You're getting married on Saturday - you can forget about all the others."

"I know." Jessica sighed heavily. "He doesn't deserve me."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," scolded the demon.

"Well, it's true. All the time we were sleeping together he was completely faithful to me, and I kept seeing other people - to his knowledge - and I _knew_ he hated the thought of anyone else touching me but I did it anyway."

"That's better than pretending to be faithful. It's better than being deceptive, like your mother. You know what she was like, don't you? Telling your father that Andre was just a friend, and then telling Andre the exact same thing about Peter two minutes later… She liked to keep her options open, your mother. Maybe this one, maybe that one, might as well hold onto Andre until something better comes along - oops, it hasn't, better marry him because I need a man to be complete. Aren't you glad you're not like that?"

"I've been awful to him over the years."

"You apologised profusely for that," said the demon. "The night you first told him you loved him, you poured your little heart out about how much you hated yourself for all the injustices you'd ever done him, and he took you in his arms and said it didn't matter, and he stroked your hair all nice and gentle, and you wanted to cry but you didn't because you hate it when you're watching a movie or something and everyone ends up in tears."

"You're well informed," remarked Jessica, as that night resurfaced in her memory. It should have been wonderful, but it was truly awful.

"Jess… I'd like to wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For everyone to know. I want us to tell them first - before we make love again."

never 

Ouch.

"He shouldn't have taken me back," said Jessica. "If someone was messing with my heart like that, and just using me for a few cheap thrills, and then when I finally told him I was sick of it he turned round and said he loved me… I mean, what a shitty thing to do!"

"Well," said the demon, "he forgave you - you don't have to worry about it anymore."

"Do you know what he was doing this afternoon?" Jessica went on. "He was helping a troubled teenager to get her life back on track, just like he does every day. And what have I been doing?"

"You weren't being tempted by the allure of that builder's manly sweat and muscular shoulders, I hope."

"Certainly not. I've been gutting this house in the hope of making a sixty-thousand-dollar profit on it. He helps people and I'm just out for what I can get."

"Helping people can be mawkish," said the demon.

"That's a terrible thing to say."

"Young offenders, though - teenagers who stab each other in the ribs and try to gas their stepparents - that isn't mawkish, because it isn't clichéd. Not nearly so many people are willing to help them as, say, orphans and old people whose friends are all dead and stuff."

"That's why he does it," said Jessica. "Hayden has such a big heart. He can see the good in everyone, including the kinds of little bastards who mug old ladies in the street to feed their drug habits. That's why he's so good at his job."

"Yes, I know."

"Do you? Well, what do you suppose he'd say about me, if he was sitting here having this exact same conversation with you? She can't stand the thought of being financially dependent on a man, and that's why _she's_ so good at _her_ job?"

"He admires your independence," the demon said irritably. "Look, why are you being so hard on yourself? I thought you liked who you are."

"I like who I am just fine."

"Marriage won't change you unless you let it, you know."

Jessica scowled. "I am _not_ getting cold feet."

"Jess?" a young voice called from somewhere outside the room.

Forgetting all about the demon, Jessica rose to her feet and ventured out into the freshly stripped kitchen. Max Miller was waiting for her, already having shed his t-shirt and found a hard hat and protective eyewear. He had an amazing body for a boy not yet seventeen, but Jessica doubted it would have had any effect on her even if she wasn't besotted with another man. Never mind that she was eleven years his senior; Max was like a little brother to her. He had been just two when her father's acquaintances adopted him; the event had coincided pretty much with Oscar leaving home to chase his dream, and Max just wanted any love and attention he could get. It was hardly surprising, then, that the two of them had really bonded.

"Hi, Max," said Jessica, smiling broadly. "You're all ready, then."

He liked to talk during strenuous work, which could be tricky. It was always difficult to keep up a conversation with so much noise, but Max never seemed to mind that. Jessica also had a bit more trouble talking through the physical exertion than he did - it simply didn't seem to occur to him that somebody without his finely tuned athlete's body might find demolishing a wall hard work.

"Did you have a good day at school?" asked Jessica, and she was genuinely interested - Max had encountered a few problems at school over the years.

"Do I _ever_ have a good day at school?" Max said dryly.

"Oh, Max, come on."

"What are we knocking through to?"

"A little stupid useless room."

"Are you making one of your really big kitchens?"

"Yep."

"Did you rip out an island?" he asked, nodding at a patch of slightly discoloured floor in the middle of the room. "You hate islands, don't you? Debbie dumped me."

"Oh!" said Jessica, feeling instantly very angry with Debbie. How could anyone dump a nice, sweet boy like Max? "Why?"

"Well, she always did seem to find it difficult talking to me."

"Then she's a moron." (She was, actually.) "Talking to you, Max, is always a pleasure."

"Did you know Chita's Dominic has disappeared?"

"_Disappeared_?" echoed Jessica. "God - that poor kid has such rotten luck with men."

"Rose says she can't pick a good one because she's too naïve," said Max. "She says Chita's so desperate to fall in love that she thinks anyone'll do."

"Rose can be very cruel."

"She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Which?" asked Jessica.

"Well." Max grinned. "Both. But I meant Rose."

Jessica took a step back, deciding it was time to stop for a breather. Max kept hacking away at the wall, beginning to look slightly out of breath, though not at all uncomfortable.

"Oh, yeah," said Jessica. "She's beautiful. Always was. Have you only just noticed?"

"No, I knew she was pretty. I like her - she knows how to talk to me."

"Yeah, well, so do I."

"_You're_ getting married," said Max.

Jessica laughed. "And if I wasn't?"

"Well then obviously, Jessica, you would be committing statutory rape about now."

He was joking, but Jessica couldn't help wondering if he might find her even slightly attractive. She wasn't slim, dark and exotic like Rose Rivera - but then again, Debbie was a curvaceous blonde with no brain in her head, so perhaps Max just wasn't fussy.

"Are you saying you're interested in Rose?"

"You catch on quick."

"Now that _is_ an interesting one," said Jessica. "If there's one thing my mother's taught me it's not to get romantically attached to my best friend, but I guess it's different for everyone. You bug the _hell_ out of Rose, of course, and that boded well for her parents."

"I'm not going to try anything right away," said Max. "She keeps saying she's not interested in boys yet."

"Isn't she? That's weird - she's seventeen."

"When did _you_ get interested in boys?"

"Twelve."

"They want to come and see you before you go."

"Who - Rose and Conchita? Well, they can drop by my apartment tomorrow evening," said Jessica. "After that it's not _terribly_ convenient - I have to put up with Hayden's family on Thursday and Friday. Why do they want to see me?"

"I'm not allowed to say," said Max.

"Yikes."

"Are you excited about getting married?"

"Well… kind of. But we _have_ been living together since last summer."

"Chita's really jealous. She's saying she wants to get married and have a baby."

"She wants to _what_?" Jessica's jaw dropped. "The girl's three days off being twenty!"

"I know," said Max.

"Jesus Christ. Maybe it's not such a bad thing this Dominic's disappeared after all."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**Wednesday**

"Tim just called about Ella." Oscar had his cell phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, as he was using both hands to season a joint of beef. "How long do we think she'll be in rehab this time?"

"How can we know?" returned the voice of Danny Hart, Mood Slime's drummer and lyricist. "She's saying she wants to come off the stuff for good this time."

"This is going to sound terrible, Danny, but I'd _love_ if it this gave us an extra couple of weeks to work on the album. Is there really no way you can get down here?"

"Well... my mom's pretty sick, Oscar."

"Then I'll come to you after the wedding," Oscar said. "Only I have to stick around until Monday, because I promised Jess I'd look in on her house."

"Well, Oscar, listen," said Danny. "While you're there, don't worry about me _or_ Ella. And don't get stressed about the album either. Just you have a great time with your family, and I'll see you next week sometime. I've really missed you," he added, somewhat tentatively. "I'll be counting the days."

"Yeah…" said Oscar. "Thanks, Danny. I'll see ya."

Oscar hung up, put down his phone and went to put the joint of meat in the oven. When he turned round, he saw that the demon was back again.

"Can't they _ever_ cook their own dinner?" it asked. "Peter was doing it on Sunday."

"Jess did it Monday and Hayden did it yesterday," said Oscar. "They're both really busy today. Jess wants to wire and plumb her house before she comes home and Hayden's been driving round to _all_ his teenagers, telling them he's going to be away for a week and try to avoid trouble and if you have any problems talk to Claire etcetera."

"I'll bet _she's_ not happy about him going away for a week," said the demon.

"I'll bet she's not."

"I don't think she's a woman who understands about love."

"_I _think she's a woman who understands that losing her best worker is definitely going to compromise the stability that those kids need."

"Your Peter-dad's paying for their honeymoon, isn't he?" said the demon. "He's bought them a hotel suite for a night and then a whole week away, specifically for his daughter to copulate with her new husband. Sounds pretty weird put like that, doesn't it?"

"Can you leave, please?" said Oscar. "I've been told to expect someone."

"Who?" the demon asked interestedly.

"Never you mind."

"Who was on the phone?"

"None of your business."

"Well I know, actually," the demon said airily. "It was Danny. Sounded pretty intense."

"We were talking shop," said Oscar.

"Really? That's not how it sounded from my end. You and Daniel have a… _special_ relationship, don't you?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Maybe it's genetic," said the demon. "Hayden and Emilia got lucky, but evidently somewhere in Andre is a gene that produces raging homos."

Oscar scowled. "I hardly think my brother's raging, and _I'm_ not even a homo - I prefer women."

"You _prefer _women. You've at least considered him, then."

"Look, Danny and I have _had_ this conversation. We're best friends and we work together - it could be disastrous. If it didn't work out it could mean the end of Mood Slime, and that's the most important thing in my life, next to my family."

"I don't believe," the demon said slowly, "that this is _just _about your mother's experience of becoming romantically involved with a friend and colleague making you overcautious. Think about this, Oscar. You have four parents. In spite of what she might say, Dana would _not_ like it - she'd probably act different around you for the rest of your life. You saw how Peter reacted the other day when he learnt that, in your early teens, you spent a couple of weeks thinking you might just _possibly_ be gay. Andre's having a hard enough time accepting it from a son that he's loved and bothered sticking around to raise, and Kate wouldn't care but she has no obligation towards you - it'd make _her_ life easier just to stick with her husband, and you'd just drift apart. And _now_ what? Their children are getting married. You always felt like you didn't quite fit, and now that your two families are being tied by marriage there's just no place for you in either of them anymore. So you think: right, better not alienate them further by telling them I'm falling for another man."

Oscar said nothing.

"Ah, I'm right."

"I'm not bi either. I've had dozens of girlfriends, and - "

"And one man. The scales aren't exactly even, I grant you - but Oscar, you _must_ have figured out that your relationship with Danny has been more consistent, more _real_ than anything you've ever had with any of those gold-digging whores."

Oscar's scowl deepened. "You'd _like_ me to enter into a homosexual relationship and alienate my family, wouldn't you? You've got some sort of agenda whereby the people I love all end up living happily ever after without me in their lives _at all_."

"I'll tell you something, Oscar," said the demon. "Jessica went into one of those obsessive showering frenzies the first time she realised that she was getting excited by his smile, because it's just _ever _so slightly similar to yours. And it was a long time before she could bring herself to make eye contact with him while they were making love."

Oscar stared, not knowing quite what to say. Then a knock came at the front door, so he abandoned the demon and went to answer the summons.

"Hi!" he exclaimed, hugging Conchita and Rose Rivera in turn, getting the corner of a large flat package in the pelvis on putting his arms around the former. "God, I haven't seen you guys for _ages_! You both look really well. Come in, sit down - I'm afraid they're not either of them back from work yet. Can I get you anything?"

Minutes later the three of them were sitting down with soft drinks - Oscar on an armchair, the two sisters at either end of the sofa - and catching up with each other's lives. Rose was doing well at school in spite of not getting along with a single one of her teachers. Conchita was absolutely flourishing at art college, in spite of having discovered that very day that her boyfriend had spent the past two weeks pumping himself with the drugs he had vowed to come off, and was now on the verge of expulsion due to poor attendance. Oscar was stressed and confused, but Mood Slime was doing well in spite of this, so he only told the girls the good parts. Rose had a less than optimistic outlook and wouldn't have minded, but Oscar never liked to expose dear, naïve Conchita to anything negative.

"Y'know," he said, glancing down at the large, flat parcel leaning against the older sister's legs, "I'm sure Jess would have said no presents."

"She did," Rose said dryly. "But Chita just _had to_, and I somehow got involved as well."

"They'll like it," Conchita said confidently.

"Hey." Oscar was suddenly struck with a thought. "You know about jewellery, Chita, don't you?"

"Well." Conchita glanced down at the homemade bracelets on her tanned arms. "I know how to make it out of old junk you find lying around the house, but I don't think I've ever worn a piece of _real_ jewellery in my entire life."

"Oh," said Oscar, for some reason faintly surprised by this news. "But you might be able to recognise a precious stone if I showed you one, mightn't you?"

"I could try," said Conchita.

"Well you've definitely got a bigger hope than Jessica." Oscar began rummaging about in his pocket. "How about you, Rose? I _think_ I've seen you wear jewellery before."

"You might have," said Rose. "It all has symbolic meaning - I don't know anything about tacky overpriced over-the-counter stuff."

"Well." Oscar stood up, now with his mother's first engagement ring in his hand, and sat down between them. "What do you make of this?"

"Ooh, it's pretty," said Conchita, taking the ring from his hand and examining it carefully.

"It's ostentatious," said Rose. "What can anyone do with a rock that size?"

"It's the engagement ring Andre gave my mom," said Oscar.

"Oh." Rose looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, honey - the whole thing was a disaster."

"It looks like a diamond to me," said Conchita. "Does that sound likely?"

"Sure, the amount he's supposed to have spent on it," said Oscar. "I guess eight thousand dollars was worth even more in those days, wasn't it?"

Conchita's already big eyes widened. "_Eight thousand dollars_?" She bundled the ring back into Oscar's hand.

"Ah sweetheart, I don't care if you damage it," said Oscar. "No one wants it."

"Why do you carry it around in your pocket?" said Rose. "If you don't mind my asking."

"That's just temporary," said Oscar, "until I figure out what _the hell _to do with it."

"Slip it in a cracker at Christmas," Rose said dismissively.

"Somebody'll think it's a cheap piece of tat and throw it out with the lame jokes and paper hats," said Conchita. "You should do _something_ with it, Oscar - it's valuable."

Oscar nodded. "You're right. I should give it to a charity, really."

The front door clicked open at that point, and Oscar hastily stowed the ring back in his jean pocket. He had given plenty to charity before, but for some reason he didn't seem to like the idea of parting with that damned ring.

"So now I'm waiting for my new kitchen units," Jessica's voice carried through from the hallway. "If they don't call tomorrow and say they're delivering them on Friday, I guess I'll just have to trust somebody else to see that they're all fitted properly."

"Well _I'm_ still waiting for that court order," said Hayden. "If he has to appear in court when I'm not here I'll scream. Oh - hi, you two."

"Hi!" Conchita jumped to her feet, letting the parcel slide down her shins to the floor. "Now look, I _know_ you said no presents, but we made you one anyway."

Jessica looked faintly shocked. "You _made_ us one? Oh, you didn't have to do that!"

"It'll come in handy in the future," said Rose, standing up and lifting the gift with some difficulty - it was about four times as wide as she was and well over half her height. "It should remind you of why you fell in the love in the first place - so whenever you have a fight, instead of going to the divorce court you can look at it and think, _Oh yeah_."

"Rose!" hissed Conchita, looking scandalised.

"I think we both know we'll have fights, Chita," said Hayden. "We have them now, don't we, Jess?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I never argue with you," Jessica said sombrely.

"And," said Hayden, taking the parcel from Rose's hands, "I don't remember saying anything about no presents. Thank you."

The gift was certainly original. It was a three-square-foot picture, drawn in black-and-white in a cartoon style popular some century ago, and mounted in glass. The scene depicted a moonlit night, a pier in the background and a motif of two caricatures driving away from said pier in a speedboat. The characters were based closely on Hayden and Jessica, the latter wearing the garb of a male millionaire that matched the nineteen twenties style of drawing. The former held a dark wig in one hand and, with the other, pointed to his fair hair with an anguished expression and exclaimed, with the aid of a speech bubble, _"I'm a Wallance!" _The reply, of course:

Conchita was visibly delighted with the reaction, and Rose looked happy with it too: the work of art prompted a good ten minutes' hearty laughter. Through her hysterics, Jessica told them a few times that they really didn't have to go to so much trouble. Then Hayden calmed down enough to ask, "How did you know? I suppose Jess has told you about it."

"She hasn't," said Rose.

"We don't know _exactly_ what it is," said Conchita, "but we've picked up that _Some Like It Hot_ is somehow special to you. At least, I hope we have."

"Oh, it is," said Oscar, who was beginning to feel slightly left out. "I remember it well - Jess made Hayd watch _Some Like It Hot_ to cheer him up when Andre's mother was dying. I think it might even have been the first movie they watched together."

"That's not all it was," said Hayden. "It was the first time she was ever nice to me."

"It was also the first time we shared a bed," added Jessica, who was still staring incredulously at the generous gift. "In fact it might even have been the first time we touched. Guys, this is _huge_! It must have nearly killed you!"

"Look, it wasn't a chore, ok?" Rose said irritably. "We're artists - we _like it_."

Oscar ducked out of the conversation and stopped listening. He couldn't remember who had said it, but whoever it was had been right: Hayden and Jessica _weren't_ "all loved-up". They didn't use mawkish expressions like "_our_ movie", as plenty of couples would, but this particular movie was still special to them. They shared so many little things like that, having damn near a quarter of a century of history together.

Though Oscar didn't know quite how that picture was going to remind them of why they fell in love in the first place, as Rose had said it would, he thought he could guess. The situation in question was the first time Hayden had seen the kinder side of Jessica's nature, and it was the first time she had come to realise that he was a real human being with real human emotions. And the picture was certainly indicative of their sense of humour - Oscar knew how important that was to both of them.

"Do you girls want to stay for dinner?" he asked. "I've got a huge roasting joint in the oven - we'll never eat it all. And there's plenty of non-meaty stuff as well," he added hastily, looking at Conchita.

"Do you remember when Danny used to come over for dinner?" asked Jessica. "He's a vegan and he eats practically nothing, and we never knew what to cook for him - so we just always made regular food and he brought round his own stuff and cooked it himself."

"Well," said Conchita, "_I'm_ not a vegan - I'm sure there's plenty I can eat, if you're sure it's ok for us to stay."

"I'll tell Mom and Dad," said Rose, whipping out a cell phone.

"Why don't I show you what I've got cooking?" said Oscar, rising to his feet. "And then if it won't do there's time for me to whip something else up."

"I know some people don't like vegetarians because they're so much trouble to cook for," said Conchita, following Oscar through to the kitchen. "I'm really not fussy, though, just as long as an animal didn't die for it."

She absolutely insisted that she could get a well rounded meal from what Oscar already had planned, but still he scoured the kitchen looking for more, and when she started to feel guilty he let slip that he "could use the distraction".

"Why? What's wrong?" Conchita asked anxiously.

"Oh, well," said Oscar, immediately deciding not to tell her everything. "Ella's back in rehab, and Danny's mom's sick so he's finding it hard to work on the new album, and so am I, probably because I'm about to break up with my girlfriend…"

"Oh no! Why?"

"Oh, the usual. I'm too absorbed in my career."

"You make it sound like it's all _your_ fault."

"It probably is."

"I don't believe that," said Conchita. "You're a really great person."

Oscar couldn't help smiling. "Thanks. So are you - and to be perfectly honest with you, honey, it sounds to me like that Dominic person doesn't deserve you."

"Oh," Conchita sighed, "I don't think there's much life left in that."

"Don't look like that, Chita," said Oscar. "You'll get a good one eventually."

"I don't know - I'm pretty lousy at picking them."

"Yeah, well, so was Jess, and now she's marrying the kind of guy that most people can only _pray_ their little sisters will end up with."

Conchita raised her eyebrows. "It must be a bit weird for _you_ though, Oscar."

He shrugged. "It is. But at least I know he'll never walk out on her or cheat on her or hit her or anything like that."

"When I first start seeing somebody new," said Conchita, "I always hope I'll find he's better than the last one, but now I'm beginning to think that Jess got the last good one."

It was a shame - Conchita was such a trusting, sweet-natured girl - but still, Oscar couldn't help laughing. "Maybe she did."

"His brother's gay, isn't he?"

For a fraction of a second, remembering the last time he had seen Danny, Oscar thought she was referring to him. But then he remembered Lars, and said, "Unfortunately, yes. He'll be here tomorrow, though, if you want to try and convert him."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-six since February."

"That's a good age - they've usually grown up a bit by then." She let out a long sigh, and said, "It's really too bad he's gay."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**Thursday**

"Dad," said Hayden, as he and Andre stood waiting for three tubs of cookie dough ice-cream to soften a little bit - they had already paid the price of aching palms for not taking it out of the freezer sooner. "Thanks for making an effort."

Andre looked at him. "I hope you didn't think I wouldn't."

Hayden had expected to spend the evening entertaining his family in own apartment, eating dinner with them all crowded round the kitchen table that comfortably sat four (so probably Oscar, Jessica and five Wallances would have been a bit much for it). But then Dana had called at the last minute and invited them all to dinner at her and Peter's house. Consequently Peter, Dana, Oscar and Hayden's mother and two younger siblings were all waiting in the dining room for their ice-cream.

"I thought… I thought it might all be a bit much for you," said Hayden. "I mean - Lars, Jess, Oscar, all in the same room…"

"Lars and I are getting along… _fine_," Andre said tightly. "And I'd never treat any fiancée of yours the way my parents used to treat your poor mother. Jessica's making an effort, I notice - she's even being quite pleasant."

"Mmm," said Hayden, not telling his father that he'd specifically asked Jessica to behave herself. "Well, anyway, thanks."

"I wouldn't deliberately try to sabotage your relationship, Hayden."

"Oh, I know."

"I've never pretended that I don't think you and your brothers have made some… _strange_ choices," Andre went on. "And I don't pretend to like all of them. What you have to understand, Hayden, is that I'm from a different world. Where I come from, you get married in a church and the woman takes her husband's name; and you assume juvenile delinquents _can't_ be helped, so you try to avoid them at all costs; and…" - he glanced towards the ice-cream - "and men don't get the dessert. It's not easy for me, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Hayden, although he had never understood why his father found it _so_ hard to accept that not everyone thought the way he did.

"But I _am_ proud of you."

Hayden blinked. "Are you?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? You've always worked hard, and you've got a good degree and a job you love and that you're good at, and you're getting married…"

"To Jess."

"Well at least you're not - "

Andre cut himself off. Hayden knew exactly what he had wanted to say: at least you're not gay. Or maybe queer - he generally seemed to favour that expression. It wasn't Andre's overall homophobic attitude that bothered Hayden; he believed that it was nobody's place to judge whatever was confined to another person's mind. He did feel quite strongly, however, that Andre's personal feelings about homosexuality should long ago have been overwhelmed by his unconditional love for his son (which, thankfully, seemed at last to have won the day).

"You seem really happy," Andre finished.

"I _am_ happy, Dad," said Hayden, going to check on the ice-cream. "Right, I reckon this stuff's about ready to play ball now."

Nine bowls of ice-cream between two people didn't really work out too well. They took two each to the dining room, and then Hayden said, "Can someone come and give us a hand with the other five?"

"I will," his sister Emilia said serenely, rising to her feet. As she followed her father and brother through to the kitchen, she said quietly, "Lamb casserole followed by cookie dough ice-cream - was that _her_ idea?"

"Well, sort of," said Hayden. "After Dana invited us all here she realised that she didn't _actually_ have anything to give us. Jessica picked all of this up at lunchtime today."

"Why couldn't Dana go out and buy something herself?"

"I don't know, Em, perhaps she was busy."

Andre picked up two bowls of ice-cream and carried them straight from the room. Emilia hovered for a moment, and said slowly, "You've _told_ her to be nice to us, haven't you?"

"No, I _asked_. Would you rather I hadn't?" Hayden said heavily.

"I don't think she likes me very much. The look she gave me when I started talking about wedding flowers…"

"Yeah - why _were_ you talking about wedding flowers?"

"Well, why not? Do you know, I think she should _at least_ carry a bouquet, if you're really going to go through with it."

Hayden sighed - he'd had this conversation with her before. "Of course we're going to go through with it. Ems, I know you're finding this hard to believe, but I love her."

"Ah-ha," said Emilia. "And she loves _you_, does she?"

"Yes."

"Are you _sure_ she's just not saying that?"

"Emilia," said Hayden. "How many more times? She's not Dana, and I'm not Dad."

"I think you're absolutely potty," Emilia said tartly.

Hayden sighed. "I know you do. Now get back in there with that ice-cream."

Between them Kate, Lars and Oscar were doing their best to jolly everybody along, but Hayden had not failed to notice the tension. He had anticipated this strain on the atmosphere, and expected most of it to come from Andre and Peter - but it had quickly become apparent that this was not the case. The two people in that room with the most animosity between them were most definitely Jessica and Emilia. Hayden was disappointed by this. He knew how much it meant to Jessica that he, Oscar and Peter got along so well - if only relations were that amicable between the three most important women in his life.

But at least, as they had already established sometime at the weekend, Kate and Jessica were getting along fine, and Hayden was grateful for that. He was so grateful, in fact, that he didn't even mind them exchanging comments such as:

"Kate, has he _always_ had to check the whole bathroom for spiders before he can get undressed for the shower?"

"Oh, good heavens - you don't mean he _still_ does that!" (This followed by indulgent laughter.)

"Y'know," said Oscar, indicating Andre and Kate, "I had _completely_ forgotten you guys' wedding for thirty years - but then yesterday it all came flooding back to me for some reason. Did I fall asleep under a table?"

"You did," said Dana. "I had no idea where you were - I was terrified."

"I found you," said Kate. "You must have been _awfully_ bored, Oscar."

"Oh," said Oscar, "I think I was just tired."

"Three-year-old boys and long drawn-out weddings don't mix," Kate said sagely. "I thought they were wonderful when I was three, and so did Emi - didn't you, darling? But I know they're not for everyone."

"Mmm - even some little _girls_ hate weddings so much they wanna kill themselves," Jessica said dryly.

"Well, thank your stars you weren't born yet when we had ours," said Kate, smiling warmly at her. "You would have _hated_ it."

After they'd finished eating, Lars took his turn getting Hayden on his own in the kitchen by volunteering to help him wash up.

"I notice," the younger brother said, "that Mum's saying _exactly_ what one might imagine Jessica wants to hear. She _really_ doesn't want to be on the receiving end of what she thought about Grandma, does she?"

"Grandma was such a cow to her," said Hayden.

"Yeah… Hayd, can I ask you something?"

"No."

Lars smiled slightly. "Please?"

"Oh, all right, if you must."

"Why did you ask her to marry you?"

Hayden looked at his brother, wondering what kind of an answer he wanted. The first to come to mind was that he loved her - but maybe that wasn't quite what was being asked.

"I mean," said Lars, catching the odd look he was getting, "do you think it's important to actually get married, rather than just living together and… and not?"

"I do, yes," said Hayden. "Nothing's really going to change, I do realise, but it's important to me that we get married. I couldn't tell you why, though - maybe it's just the way I was brought up."

"Is it as important to _her_?"

"Not sure."

"Is it because you want to have children?"

"I… no. What difference does that make?"

"I don't know. Don't you?"

"Don't I what?" asked Hayden. "Want to have children?"

Lars nodded.

"I, I do, yes. Lars, what _is_ all this?"

"Well… I'm wondering about getting married myself."

Hayden was surprised for a moment - just surprised enough not to know what to say. Then he said, "Lars, you can't say that."

Lars sighed. "Fine - I'm wondering about having a civil ceremony."

"Do you remember that episode of _South Park_?" snickered Hayden. " 'Instead of "mar-ried", you would be… butt buddies.'"

Lars laughed. "Yeah… That's exactly what we _did_, you know."

Hayden nodded. " 'Instead of "mar-ried", you would be… civil partners.' So how do gay people propose to each other, anyway? Do you say, 'Will you be my civil partner?'"

"I, I don't know."

"Well, you'd better find out sharpish, hadn't you?"

"Hayden," said Lars. "Can't you take _anything_ seriously?"

"Sorry," said Hayden, and rearranged his face to look suitably solemn.

"I might not. Dad would go mad, and Emi would probably disown me - I mean, my relationship with Nathan wouldn't change but my relationship with my family _would_. And that doesn't seem right somehow. But if we just carried on as we are…"

"Ask him, Lars," said Hayden. "I've never been to a civil ceremony before."

"Neither have I."

"Is there a verb for it? I mean like, I say to people, 'I'm getting married.' Would you say, 'I'm getting civilly partnered?'"

"Um." Lars blinked a few times. "I think I'd say, 'I'm having a civil ceremony.'"

"Well that's dumb - the straight equivalent of that is, 'I'm having a wedding', and I've never said _that_ to anyone."

"Maybe I just won't bother."

"Well _that's_ no attitude," said Hayden. "If you want to marr… civilly partner him, Lars, because you believe it's the right thing to do, then you should."

Lars raised his eyebrows. "_You'd_ marry a man if you were gay, would you?"

"_I'm_ marrying Jess," said Hayden, "and that's almost as bad."

"It isn't."

"It is. She doesn't own one single dress, you know, and she's never heard a symphony all the way through in her entire life."

"I thought the problem was that she's Oscar's sister," said Lars.

Hayden shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. Dad thinks she's too loutish and Em just wants to smack her in the mouth."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

**Friday**

"She's the most annoying person I have _ever met_!" fumed Jessica, ripping up yet another floorboard that had been half devoured by woodworm. "She's like those stupid little bitches you get in junior high, only worse, because she's got this _really irritating_ voice, like, 'Oh I say, Jessica, wouldn't it be smashing if you got married on a beach in Austria with chrysanthemums in your hair.'" Another floorboard came up with a loud crack.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Did she actually say that?"

"Oh, something like that - I wasn't listening."

"Well, thank God she lives in England."

Jessica nodded. "I know. The _really_ annoying thing is that Hayden absolutely loves her."

"Well, she _is_ his sister," Chris said reasonably.

"I know," Jessica said again. "And she's got him wrapped around her little finger."

"But so have you, surely. I mean, if he ever had to take sides, you've got weapons at your disposal that she hasn't."

Jessica cut him a quick glance. "Are you referring to my feminine wiles?"

"Ah-ha," said Chris.

"Chris," said Jessica. She sat back on her heels to examine a large splinter in her thumb, and began to regret not wearing the gloves that even now lay forgotten in the corner of the room. "I don't use sex to get what I want."

"I'll bet you would if you really had to."

"Oh shut up. Y'know what else? She totters around in these stupid high-heeled boots, and she's always flashing her knees, and she keeps getting out this stupid little mirror - "

"A compact."

" - and _looking_ at herself. I mean, does she really think her face is going to change that much in half an hour?"

Chris suddenly looked interested. "Is she pretty?"

"I'll say she is. Do you know what's the worst thing about her? She's got a _guy voice_."

"She's got a what?"

"A guy voice. You know - that awful whiny girly voice that _certain _types of women use around guys. I heard her use it when she came over here in the fall with her boyfriend, and after they'd left Hayd said to me, 'Why was she talking like that? That's not her voice,' and I said, 'It's a guy voice,' and he was all like, 'What's a guy voice?' so I told him, and he said, 'Do _you_ have a guy voice?' and I said, 'No, _I_ have self respect.'"

"Jess," said Chris. "Do you need a hand with that splinter?"

"No, no - it'll come out with a good squeeze. Ouch!"

"Well then I might take off, if you don't mind - it's almost seven."

"It's almost _what_?" Jessica rose quickly to her feet, with the splinter halfway out of her thumb, and looked at her watch. "Oh shit! I have to go home! God, what am I gonna do about this floor?"

"Don't worry about the floor - I'll finish it for you tomorrow. It won't take long."

"Yeah, I guess it won't," said Jessica, chewing her bottom lip as she looked distractedly around the dilapidated room.

"I'll make sure we stay on schedule, Jess," said Chris. "You won't have to worry about this place while you're away."

As Chris started to pack up his tools, Jessica got out her cell phone and speed dialled home. Hayden answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi babe, it's me," said Jessica. "I'm late, aren't I? Sorry - I'm just leaving now."

"Bye, Jess," said Chris.

"Who was that?" asked Hayden.

"Well _obviously_ he's my lover. What do you _think_ I do here all day?"

"Babe, as you're only just leaving, would you mind us starting dinner without you?"

"No, of course not, go ahead."

Jessica then caught Emilia's voice in the background: "She's not coming _home_, is she?"

"_What_?" Jessica said sharply.

"Ems, surely you've learnt by now that Jess doesn't go in for wedding traditions," Hayden said calmly. "We'll see you in a bit then, Jess."

Jessica didn't much like driving around in New York, but by the end of her first development she had realised that she needed to be able to take herself to and from the site at a moment's notice. As she drove home, she had a long think and concluded that if either she or Hayden had to hate any of the in-laws, it was better that it was her. They lived in fairly close proximity to her parents, and generally saw them at least two or three times a week.

For many years, Jessica had hated the Wallances just for being Wallances. Over time she had, obviously, warmed up to Hayden (quite literally) - and after being weak enough to fall in love with the guy, she'd realised that she had to give the others a chance. Well, Lars was fine now. Kate was a very nice woman, but easier to handle in small doses. Andre wasn't Jessica's kind of guy, but she just _had_ to forget about what he had done to her mother and brother all those years ago for the sake of everyone's sanity, and now he was bearable. But Emilia… eurgh. Jessica would hate her even if she wasn't a Wallance.

For some reason, Jessica had wanted it to be clear from the outset that she would not be changing her name when she got married. After their first bout of lovemaking that night, Hayden had come out with, _"Will you marry me?"_ After their second, she had said:

"I'm not taking your name, all right?"

"All right, babe."

"Right, good."

"Jess… don't take this the wrong way, but can I ask you something?"

"Sure, why the hell not?"

"Is it anything to do with my name being Wallance?"

"No, babe, it's to do with me being my own person."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

It would have been sort of ironic, really: Oscar had already shed the Wallance name in favour of calling himself Venkman, and now Jessica had a real reason to swap Venkman for Wallance. But there was absolutely no way in a million years that she would ever do any such thing.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"It's bad luck," Emilia said knowingly.

Hayden exhaled heavily. His parents were out at dinner together, Jessica was still on her way home from work, and Lars had reverted to his old silent self sometime between Emilia opening the bottle of wine she'd insisted they have at dinner and becoming mildly drunk on it. Emilia was generally repetitive anyway - she had grown accustomed to saying things over and over again until she got her way - and when she was drunk… well, the words "stuck" and "record" came to mind.

"Ems," said Hayden. "I'm not going to argue with you."

"It'll all go wrong, Hayden - you should make her stay with her parents tonight."

Make her, she said. The idea of _making_ Jessica do anything was laughable. He didn't want to, but for some reason Hayden heard himself saying, "Emilia, aren't you of the opinion that it's all going to go wrong anyway?"

"Well, yes. Are you _sure_ you don't want any more wine?" Emilia asked, waving the almost empty bottle around as though she thought he might not know what she meant.

Hayden shook his head, and watched with some trepidation as his sister refilled her own glass. He'd had one, to shut her up, and he just couldn't take any more. He had never understood what all the fuss about wine was - he thought the stuff was vile.

"You're not going to get many more chances to bow out, you know," Emilia went on.

Hayden didn't answer. He was not in the mood for an argument. He'd had a bad day, and all he really wanted was to do was crawl into bed with his lover.

"You should dump her at the altar," giggled Emilia. "That would be _really_ funny."

Hayden looked at Lars, pleading silently for help. Lars swallowed the mouthful of food he had been chewing and said unhelpfully, "There isn't going to _be_ an altar, Emi."

"Where do _your_ lot get married, Lars?" Emilia asked suddenly.

Lars blinked. "I, um, I don't know."

"You can't get married in a church, can you?"

Lars shook his head. "Shouldn't think so. God doesn't approve."

"None of Her business, if you ask me," said Hayden.

"_I'm_ getting married in a church," Emilia, a don't-know-don't-care agnostic, said dreamily. "You two can usher. Nathan can come if he promises not to try and seduce the vicar afterwards, but I'm not inviting Jessica."

"Well that's uncalled for," Hayden said sharply. "I've told you - _I'm_ the one who decided not to invite Michael."

"_Why_ didn't you invite him?" slurred Emilia.

Hayden almost wanted to tell her the truth: he didn't want Michael at his wedding because he thought the guy was a stuck-up piece of slime who treated his sister like a doll. But he said, "I've already told you: we agreed we only wanted it to be small."

"Oh, what rubbish - one extra person…"

"Three," Lars said timidly. "They'd have had to invite Nathan and Julia as well."

"You two don't like Michael," Emilia said accusingly. "_You_" - she pointed at Hayden - "don't like anyone with breeding because you wish you'd been born in a bin, and _you_" - moving her outstretched finger towards Lars - "don't like him because he isn't _gay_."

"I like people who aren't gay," Lars said reasonably.

"Emilia," said Hayden. "You're completely pissed."

"Might as well finish the wine, though," she said, and casually tipped what remained in the bottle into her glass. "But anyway, I don't _care_ what you think, because you two are in no position to judge. _You're_ queer and _you're_ marrying that Venkman person. Oh, hello," she added, as Jessica entered the room. "We were just talking about you."

"She's drunk," said Hayden. "Ignore her. Your dinner's in the oven."

"Nice the way he cooks for you, isn't it?" slurred Emilia.

"I appreciate it," said Jessica. "We take turns - you do know that, don't you?"

"Why _are_ you marrying him, anyway?" Emilia went on chattily, as Jessica brought her dinner to the table. "I thought you didn't like us."

"I didn't," said Jessica.

"I think I might know," said Emilia.

"Em, stop it," warned Hayden, cutting a sideways glance at Jessica. She was avoiding Emilia's gaze, clearly trying very hard to honour the promise she had made to him.

"You're trying to annoy _me_."

Jessica looked up then, pushing away the unruly brown curls she'd been using to hide her face, clearly curious to hear this.

"You always resented the way I used to - as _you_ saw it - try and take your brother away from you," said Emilia. "So now you're trying to take _mine _away from _me_."

"It's a lot of trouble to go to just to annoy _you_, Emilia," Jessica said calmly.

"No it isn't. You organised the wedding in five minutes flat."

Jessica said nothing, returning her attention to her food.

"If you _really_ loved him," said Emilia, raising her voice slightly, apparently under the impression that Jessica had gone suddenly deaf, "you'd want to marry him _properly_."

"Right, fine," said Jessica. "So, Hayd - how was your day?"

"Shitty," said Hayden.

"She'll divorce you as soon as she can, Hayden," Emilia said, more loudly still. "She's only doing it to annoy me."

"Well, it's working, isn't it?" retorted Hayden.

"Look, _princess_," said Jessica, clearly trying not to lose her patience. "Not _everything _is about you."

"Well, no - you get to break my brother's heart as well, you'll enjoy that. He actually thinks you love him, you know."

Jessica didn't answer.

"You don't, though, do you?"

"That's really none of your business."

"Ooh, did you hear that, Hayden? She admitted it!"

"Emilia, you're twenty-three," said Jessica. "Stop acting like a teenager."

"You can't believe a Barrett when she says she loves you," Emilia said sagely, still looking at Hayden. "Look what happened to Dad."

Jessica opened her mouth, her eyes shining with fury, but Hayden put a restraining hand on her arm and said, "Please, Jess, not _this_ argument again."

"She'll drive you out of the country," said Emilia.

"My mom," said Jessica, through gritted teeth, "didn't _drive him out of the country_."

"What would _you_ call it, then?"

"He abandoned her with a small baby!"

"She didn't _want_ him there! Oscar probably isn't his anyway - she sure as hell didn't honour any of her _other_ marriage vows!"

Hayden knew that Emilia had gone too far, but before he could say anything, Jessica had hurtled right over that line after her. She was suddenly on her feet, and delivering Emilia a hefty whack to the side of the head.

"Jessica!" exclaimed Hayden, rising to his feet.

She whipped round sharply, giving him a look that could have knocked him flat. "What are you yelling at _me_ for?"

"You promised me."

"Oh, I'm sorry - I don't remember promising to sit and take that kind of shit from your bratty little sister."

"Well you didn't have to hit her!"

"Does she break promises to you often, Hayden?" asked Emilia, whose primary concern now seemed to be reordering her hair. "_That_ can't bode well for your marriage."

"Shut the fuck up!" shouted Jessica.

"Stop it both of you," said Hayden.

"You can't tell me what to do," snapped Jessica.

"I can tell you not to attack my sister."

"I didn't hear you telling _her_ not to attack _me_!"

"She's drunk!" Hayden cried desperately. "Haven't you ever said anything stupid when you were drunk?"

"I'm not drunk, I'm perfectly sober," slurred Emilia.

"Fine, side with her, I don't care," said Jessica, the anger draining from her voice - now she just sounded tired of the whole thing. "I'm going out," and she stalked off.

"You might want to go after her," offered Lars, and Hayden looked round in surprise - he'd almost forgotten his brother was there. "I think you should make it up with her before you get married."

"Yeah, thanks, Lars," Hayden said dryly.

"You shouldn't marry her at all," Emilia said acidly. "The woman's clearly insane."

Hayden looked steadily at her for a moment. Then he said, "Are you all right, Em?"

"Well, I might have a brain haemorrhage - if I drop down dead tomorrow we'll know."

"I felt like hitting you myself. What _the hell_ are you playing at, Emilia?"

"I'm just trying to make you see that - "

"You're going to have to get out of the habit of trying to make everyone see things your way - it's arrogant," said Hayden. "And if you _ever_ say or do anything else to upset her, I'm not going to defend you again."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The demon was pacing what was left of the floor when she arrived. Jessica, determined to ignore it, pulled on the hefty gloves she'd opted to leave in the corner of the room earlier and set to work picking up all the floorboards she'd left lying around.

"All right, so you don't like his sister," the demon said frantically. "That's no reason to throw away what you have with him!"

Jessica began to stack up all of her floorboards, planning to take them out to her skip when she had the rest of the floor up.

"They'll be in England most of the time. I mean, after all, it's not _them_ you're marrying, is it? It's him. And you love him, don't you? _Don't you_? Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Jessica wondered if the demon had wanted to shock her into paying attention. She was faintly surprised by its word choice, but not surprised enough to look at it.

"I _know _you can hear me, Jessica! Oh, this is terrible. And all because his father made a silly mistake and married your mother. _Somebody_ should have seen all of this coming and stopped them! It really isn't her fault she's Oscar's half-sister, you know. You _must_ realise that you're the special one. She's more like a niece to him. I'll tell you something, Jessica: if you and Emilia were both hanging over a pit of molten lava, and Oscar had the chance to save one of you, he wouldn't hesitate to - "

"This has got nothing to _do_ with Oscar!" Jessica snapped irritably, not looking up.

"Sure it has. You're prejudiced against her because you've always thought of her as a threat to your relationship with your brother."

"At what point in the proceedings did you walk in - if indeed you were there at all? I've been doing my best, and then _she_ turns round and starts hurling abuse at me!"

"Sticks and stones, Jessica."

"Yeah?" Jessica crouched down and pulled up another floorboard. "How much do you think it would hurt if I smacked you in the face with _this_?"

"Think about it," said the demon. "If she wasn't Oscar's sister, you would have always been perfectly pleasant to her, and she would have had absolutely no reason to say all of those things."

Jessica sighed heavily. "Listen. The woman has over thirty pairs of shoes, a subscription to _Cosmopolitan_ and a guy voice. I would hate her whoever she was."

"No you wouldn't. You don't hate that Conchita person, and she's just the same."

"She is not. Chita has a lot of very irritating habits, I do admit, but she's not _nearly_ as bad as Emilia. I mean yeah, she's into clothes and makeup and shit and she apparently can't be without a boyfriend, but at least she doesn't have a guy voice."

"You're very judgemental," said the demon. "Did you know that?"

"I can think whatever the hell I like about people," said Jessica. "That is my basic human right. The important thing is that _I_ have the decency not to voice my opinions to those people's faces."

"You're coming off the point," the demon said irritably. "She's not Hayden's fault."

"No?" Another floorboard came up. "Whose fault is she?"

"Oh, I don't know - whoever thought of Bratz dolls. But listen, it doesn't matter what she thinks about you - it only matters what Hayden thinks. I _know_ you'll remember how much you love him, but what good will it be if you ruin it all now by betraying him?"

Jessica looked up from her work for the first time. "Betraying him how?"

"Well, by calling that Chris person and getting him to come and screw you, obviously."

"Obviously," Jessica said dryly.

"It'll ruin _everything_ you have! It's all very well to promise yourself you won't tell him, but how will you live with the guilt? Your marriage will be a lie!"

"Well," said Jessica, setting to work on another floorboard. "Maybe I should just not marry him at all, then."

"_What_?" the demon squeaked in alarm.

"I've been thinking about what Marie said."

"Oh no…"

"And I figure she's right. Why _shouldn't_ it be ok for women to sleep around? Why _should_ I appease some stupid sexist moral code by subjugating myself to one man?"

"But you wouldn't be - "

"Hayden was good for a few cheap thrills," Jessica went on, staring fixedly at the floorboard she was working on, "but to be honest with you, he's not even really my type. Chris _is_ more the sort of thing I usually go for: dark hair, brown eyes, quite a bit _older_ than I am… Y'know, Hayden's the only blond guy I ever slept with. _And_ he's the only one who was younger than me."

"That's because he's special and you don't love him for his body," said the demon.

"See, that's what _I _thought - but then it occurred to me that I sure as hell didn't love him the first fifty or sixty times I slept with him, so what was driving me then? I know what it was the first time: I was just horny. I get horny a lot, you see - and what happens when Hayden's not up to it anymore?"

"Jessica, you _know_ how much he - "

"But what about _after_ that? I'll tell you, shall I? It was all just one big power game. He was _so_ in love with me, and I enjoyed breaking his little heart over and over again."

There was silence. Jessica couldn't help looking up, and saw that there were tears in the demon's eyes.

"Why are you saying these things?" it asked, in a small voice.

"To piss you off," said Jessica. "You've been pissing _me_ off ever since I got here - I figured it was your turn. Of _course_ I'm not going to call Chris and ask him to come over here and have sex with me in the foundations of this house, you stupid little fuckwit."

The demon stared at her, its little face filled with desperate hope.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" asked Jessica. "Who _are_ you?"

The demon shrugged, and said, "Just someone who likes things to be in order."

Jessica was on the verge of asking the demon impolitely to leave, when she heard a familiar engine sound outside the house. It was definitely Hayden's company car, which she found hard to believe at first, because he only ever used it for work business. But then she reasoned that their relationship was almost certainly important enough to make him break a small habit like that, and so went out to meet him.

"Oh good, you're here," said Hayden, looking relieved as he climbed out of the car.

"What if I hadn't been?" asked Jessica.

"I suppose I would have driven to your parents house' - but I thought you probably _would _be here, because I know how reluctant you are to leave this place completely in other people's hands."

Jessica sighed heavily, turning ninety degrees to make room for him in the doorway. "I shouldn't have started it. You should _never_ go away in the middle of a development."

"Jess," said Hayden, placing his hands on her arms. "There are more important things. I'm sorry about Em."

"I'm sorry I hit her," Jessica said grudgingly.

"And I'm sorry I yelled at you. If it's any consolation, she got a good telling off as well."

"I should damn well hope she did!"

"I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It's no excuse, but I've been on the verge of losing my rag for most of the day. I got _so_ yelled at by somebody's dad this morning."

"Why?" asked Jessica. "Because you're going away for a week?"

"That's right," said Hayden. "As soon as I picked up the phone I heard, 'What the hell are you playing at, taking off for a week? What the fuck am I supposed to do with him while you're not here?' After about ten minutes of him yelling I managed to work out whose dad he actually _was_."

"What an asshole," remarked Jessica. "He's supposed to be the kid's father, isn't he? You shouldn't do so much for them, Hayd - it's obviously making the parents think they don't need to bother."

"But they don't bother anyway. If _we_ didn't bother, nobody would."

Since hearing about Hayden's exploits with his young charges, both in the UK and the US, Jessica had come to realise that Andre Wallance was actually a relatively good parent. All right, so he had abandoned his son - but at least he'd left him with someone he knew was responsible and would give him the love he needed, and he always paid the child support on time. And as for the three kids whose mother he had loved, and whom he'd bothered sticking around for… Ok, so one was a cross between a human Barbie doll and a poisonous snake - but none of them had ever had so much as a tiny brush with the law, and one of them had grown up into the most wonderful man in the world.

"You're too good," said Jessica, draping her arms around his neck.

As they kissed, she began to feel bad about all the things that had gone through her mind minutes ago. They hadn't been lies exactly; they were excuses that she'd made up when her relationship with Hayden was purely physical. During the year he spent studying in New York she'd occasionally told herself that she enjoyed tormenting him, when she didn't want to admit that her body simply responded better to his touch than anyone else's; when he decided to emigrate and persuaded her to start sleeping with him again, the occasional quiet reassurances quickly became a frequent and blazing internal row.

Jessica broke the kiss and pulled Hayden into the house by the neck of his sweater. She then had to pause and think for a moment. The living room floor probably wouldn't have been safe anyway, with all that woodworm - but it was almost all up now, which meant cold hard concrete downstairs or carpet burns in one of the bedrooms. Or - ah-_ha_! - soft bathroom floor tiles. Now why didn't she think of that straightaway?

"God," breathed Hayden, as she pushed him forcibly against the only bare wall in the bathroom and began kissing her way down his torso. "Jessica, you are just…"

The word got lost somewhere, if he ever had it in the first place. Soon she had him too weak to maintain his balance, and he was sliding down to join her on the floor. Their lovemaking was more than usually frantic - Jessica even surprised herself, and probably so did Hayden. Her screaming, juddering climax subsided just in time for her to feel the vibration of his yell against the soft skin of her neck, and the convulsive jerk that shot up through his body.

In the long moments that it took for them both to catch a little bit of their breath, Jessica couldn't help remembering what Marie had said. Hayden didn't seem the type. What the hell did that mean? Jessica now wished that she had demanded an explanation. What was it that made him seem so un-sexy? Was it his unhurried manner? His unremarkable appearance? His ability to keep his tongue inside his head in the presence of an attractive woman? His sheer Englishness, maybe? Well, screw all that. Marie knew nothing. None of that made him any less of a man - and God, what a man he was.

"Oh!" said Jessica, noticing as he rolled off her that her fingers had left angry red marks on the pale skin of his arms. "Sorry."

"Don't ever apologise," panted Hayden, sounding quite overwhelmed. "Not for that."

Jessica ran her palm lightly over his upper arm, and then kissed each of the now fading finger marks in turn. She loved this part. There weren't many things of a physical nature that she had only ever experienced with Hayden, but post-orgasmic kissing and touching was one. She had just never seen the point before.

"I love you," she said.

She felt his arms close around her, and he kissed the top of her head. "I love you too."

**.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

**Saturday**

Oscar, holding Emilia by the shoulders, steered her into the chic little establishment that described itself as a "bistro" (she'd like that) and pushed her gently onto one of the mahogany chairs. She had gone to the Venkmans' house and ended up telling him herself about her little debacle of the night before, but only because he had dragged it out of her when he found her pacing the landing upstairs with angry tears in her eyes.

"Low fat latte?" he asked.

Emilia folded her arms and shrugged in an I-couldn't-care-less kind of way. Oscar turned his back on her and headed for the bar, where he ordered them a couple of coffees. For a moment it looked as though the young woman serving might have recognised him - but if she did, she quickly decided not to say anything. Perhaps she wasn't sure. Oscar always performed with a couple of days' worth of stubble on his face and his hair loose, but now he had shaved and brought back the old ponytail by way of a partial disguise.

While he waited for the coffees, Oscar wondered what he was going to say to Emilia. He had taken her there to try and persuade her to grow up a bit and show her brother some support, but how the hell was he supposed to do that? She was so spoilt, she wasn't used to being told that her opinion wasn't important. There was a high horse saddled and waiting for him, should Oscar decide to mount: _"This isn't easy for me either, Emilia, but _I'm _managing to keep my opinions to myself."_ But he made up his mind only to use it as a last resort, if desperate - nobody enjoyed being spoken to like that.

"Please just promise me you'll behave yourself," said Oscar, placing the low fat latte in front of Emilia and sitting down opposite her.

"What do you imagine I'm going to do?" Emilia said tartly.

"Oh, I don't know. Sit there and look disapproving, maybe?"

"How will they know? They'll have their backs to me."

Oscar sighed heavily. "Emi…"

He still didn't know quite what he was going to say, but he was saved the trouble when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Conchita smiling down at him.

"Oh, hi," said Oscar, returning her smile. "You're out and about very early. Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun," said Conchita.

"Do you remember my sister Emilia? Emi, this is Conchita Rivera. You guys met once when you were about… ooh… five and eight?"

"I remember," said Conchita, turning her smile onto Emilia. "Hi."

"Hello," Emilia said, politely enough, through a clearly false smile.

"Listen," said Conchita, turning her attention back to Oscar, "thanks again for the present - it was really, _really_ generous of you."

"Honey, I told you, it's my pleasure," said Oscar, noticing that Emilia was looking rather as though there was a bad smell under her nose.

"Dominic wanted to know who's been giving me jewellery - I don't think he believed me when I said it was from a rich rock star."

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. "You mean the guy you're supposed to be breaking up with?"

"Yeah, well, he showed up at my birthday party and begged me to give him another chance. I don't think it'll be forever, but… well, I haven't had any better offers lately."

"You're too good," said Oscar.

"Well I'd better get going," said Conchita, indicating a group of young women who appeared to be waiting for her outside. "Have fun at your thing - and give them my love."

Emilia looked positively scandalised as Conchita stooped down and kissed Oscar on the cheek, treating him - unwittingly, no doubt - to an eyeful of cleavage as she did so.

"Well," said Emilia, once Conchita had bounced out of the bistro and joined her friends.

"Well what?" asked Oscar.

"You're not planning on making _her_ the next love of your life, are you?"

Oscar was momentarily shocked by this idea. Then he said, "Emi, I've known her since she was a baby. I've got t-shirts older than she is."

"She's very pretty, though," said Emilia. "You must have noticed, as you've apparently been buying her jewellery and telling her to break up with her boyfriend. And you like slumming it, don't you?"

"Emilia!"

"You've gone for tarty tanorexic bubbleheads like her before, if you recall."

Oscar felt suddenly indignant on Conchita's behalf. All right, so she might be a little bit rough around the edges, but she was a lovely girl. "Tanorexic" certainly wasn't fair; she was a very healthy weight, and she'd been born with that tan (her father was second generation Mexican). And she was certainly no bubblehead - Conchita had a good brain (that one was down to her mother). Tarty… well, that probably referred to the skin-tight Barbie-pink tank top and white denim mini-skirt she'd been wearing. Honestly, no wonder she attracted bozos, if she insisted on going around looking like a piece of meat.

"You shouldn't insult people like that, Emi," said Oscar. "You just keep those kinds of opinions to yourself - surely your mom's tried to teach you that."

"I'm not my mother," said Emilia.

That was certainly true. If she cut and straightened her hair, Emilia would be the spitting image of Kate, but in terms of personality they were fields apart. Kate was one of the nicest women Oscar had ever met; Emilia, though he was fond of her, was little more than a spoilt brat.

"You have a baby-pink lipstick mark on your cheek, by the way," she said. "I think it's disgusting, the way some girls make themselves look cute and innocent and childlike even though they're quite clearly _not_. They attract latent paedophiles."

It wasn't until that moment that Oscar realised his two half-sisters had at least one thing in common: they didn't hate people by halves, and boy could they be condemning.

"Come on," he said, and downed the rest of his coffee. "We've got a wedding to get to."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Oscar saw immediately from the crowd of people hanging around in the corridor that he and Emilia were the last to arrive. It then struck him that there were rather more people there than there ought to have been. Jessica was chatting to Kate and Lars, while Andre talked very earnestly to Hayden. Was he giving him wedding night advice? God, what might _that_ be like? Lie back and think of England? Well, maybe not - the guy _had_ managed to sire four children in his time, and surely he wasn't naïve enough to think any of them was still a virgin. Andre probably wasn't aware, as Oscar was, that Hayden had lost his virginity on the Christmas Eve before he turned sixteen (it seemed _so_ young to Oscar, even though Hayden had been only a month and a half underage) - but he _did_ know that Hayden and Jessica had officially shared a bed for ten months now.

So who were all these extra people hanging around? Oscar swung his gaze onto his parents, who were talking to three hangers-on. Two of them were instantly recognisable as John Spengler and his twin sister Eden. The other was a dark-haired young woman whom Oscar had never seen before in his life, and who let out an undignified squeal when she saw him. She then started tugging on the nearest arm to hand, which happened to be Eden's, and said something to her that sounded pretty urgent.

"Oscar," Eden said sedately, leading the obviously excited young woman towards him. "I'm told I have to introduce you."

"Jessica said she'd introduce us this week," said the woman, "but she 'forgot'. Can you _believe_ that?"

"Marie, this - as you well know - is Oscar Venkman," said Eden. "Oscar, Marie Lupin - you'll remember hearing about her father Barney?"

Oscar nodded. "The werewolf."

"That's not all he is," said Marie.

"Well, no, of course not," said Oscar. "Hi," and he offered her a handshake. "It's nice to meet you."

"Wow," Marie said breathily, as she latched very tightly onto Oscar's hand. "I thought maybe you wouldn't be as sexy in real life, but boy was I ever wrong! Ooh, your skin's all hard and rough - is that from playing the guitar?"

"Marie!" hissed Eden.

"Yeah, it is," said Oscar.

"I've got _all_ your albums," Marie went on smilingly. "_Troll Bridge_ was just _awesome_! Well, you know - they're _all_ awesome. I think it's _amazing_ the way you've been consistently popular for over ten years - I've been wanting to meet you ever since I was a teenager. I used to say to my dad, 'You know the guy's parents! Can't you invite them to dinner or something?' But he seemed to think you had _better_ things to do."

"I would have come," Oscar said meekly, wondering if from now on he was going to have to go through life with this woman permanently attached to his hand.

"_Would_ you?" Marie looked mortified. "He could have at least asked! Hey, guess how many pinups of you I've got!"

Oscar blinked. "I, I have no idea."

"Oh, go on - guess."

"I - "

"Just have a guess!"

Oscar had no idea how many pinups she had of him, and he didn't really want to know. He was about to guess a modest number, when he caught sight of Jessica gesturing to him over Marie's shoulder. She opened both of her hands, then dropped four of her fingers.

"Sixteen?" Oscar said dubiously.

Marie looked faintly put out, and then turned to look at Jessica. "Did I _tell_ you that?"

"Marie, I'm beginning to suspect that you only like me for who my brother is," said Jessica, cutting a sideways glance at Emilia, who was hanging around looking disapproving. "Uh - hi, Emi. Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday."

Emilia gave another of her false smiles and said, "Don't worry about it." She didn't offer a counter-apology, Oscar noticed.

A door swung open, giving a loud creak that was probably designed to attract the attention of groups of people hanging around chatting, and a matronly looking woman poked her head out into the corridor.

"Venkman and Wallance? We're ready for you now."

"Aw, shoot," muttered Marie, looking disgruntled as everyone began to pile through the door. "That's our cue to leave. Hey - where'd they go?"

She looked wildly around her, at last letting go of Oscar's hand, and quickly caught sight of her two chaperones. Oscar had already spotted them - they were having a mild tug-of-war with Jessica's arms as they offered her their hearty best wishes.

"Oh, come _on_," muttered Marie.

"They're very old friends of ours," said Oscar. "They're probably feeling a bit…" - God, he was lousy with words - "_emotional_."

Marie snorted. "She's only getting married - she's not dying."

"Yeah," muttered Oscar, who was feeling very emotional himself. As soon as the twins had released his sister, he went and put his arm around her. "Are you ready for this?"

Jessica looked at him. "Are _you_ ready for this?"

"Does it matter?"

"I'm really glad you came, Oscar."

"Well of course I _came_," he said, wondering if she had thought even for a moment that he wouldn't. "Come on - let's go and make you respectable."

Oscar had hoped for a little bit of non-traditional music, but there wasn't any. There was only an official looking desk at the front of the room, the matronly woman and twenty-odd chairs, six of which were occupied.

Whether by silent or verbal agreement, the Venkmans and Wallances had divided and sat on different sides of the room: Kate, Andre, Lars and Emilia weighted the floor to the right, while Peter and Dana sat on the left. Was that the traditional way around? Oscar thought back to the other weddings he had attended. Egon and Janine Spengler… hang on - had he been with the bride or the groom? The groom, probably. He was fairly sure he'd been on the right then. He had a vague memory of having more people on his left than his right at Andre and Kate's wedding, and he had definitely been with the groom then, in spite of having absolutely no idea who the guy was.

By the time this thought process had whipped through his mind, Oscar was already sitting next to Dana. Everyone was staring blankly ahead at the pair standing at the front of the room, both defiantly wearing their jeans and emanating an air of untouchable happiness. Oscar suddenly began to feel better about the whole thing. All he had ever wanted for his sister was for her to be happy, and if happiness had appeared to her in the form of her half-brother's half-brother… well, he had always known it was a funny old world.

As the matronly looking judge explained why they were there, as though she thought they might have forgotten, Oscar looked furtively around at his fellow witnesses. Dana was under strict orders not to cry ("I'm getting married, Mom, I'm not emigrating"), and was clearly struggling to comply with this simple instruction. Peter was looking wistful, but also - Oscar thought - faintly relieved. Well, that was understandable, after Jessica had made so many much worse choices of man than this one.

Emilia was looking sulky and defiant. Lars was wearing a small smile, but otherwise not much of an expression. Andre and Kate were both beaming with pride. Oscar was glad about that. He knew that Andre didn't agree with a lot of his second son's choices. In fact, off the top of his head, he couldn't remember Andre ever saying he thought what Hayden had decided to do next was a good idea. ("You want to go to _Brighton_? To study _sociology_? Hayden… _why_?") But at least this time he realised that his opinion wasn't important, and he was prepared to be supportive.

It occurred to Oscar that Andre had never supported a single one of _his_ decisions. What if he got married? He could, if he wanted to. Enough of his exes had hinted that they wouldn't say no, some of them within mere minutes of meeting him. Would Andre like that? Would it make up in some small way for Mood Slime?

"Hayden!" the judge said sharply, and Oscar snapped out of his depressing train of thought. "Do you take Jessica to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," said Hayden.

Oscar blinked. Was that _it_? Didn't you _have_ to go through the long list of ready-written vows, or else make up some mawkish drivel yourself? Didn't that mean they weren't promising anything here? So what was the point exactly?

"Jessica, do you take Hayden to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

She was using first names only, Oscar noticed. Had she already said their middle and last names? He had absolutely no idea - he must not have been listening at all. Oscar had always envied all four of his siblings having middle names they didn't hate. Margaret was fine. So was Benjamin - the Wallance children all agreed that Hayden had come off best in the name department. Apparently Kate had insisted on it being a perfectly usual English name, so Andre had suggested the first name of the only English composer he knew: Benjamin Britten. With Lars, Kate had almost given in to the idea of giving him the middle name Ludwig, and then mercifully remembered Richard Wagner. Why, then, Oscar had asked himself on numerous occasions, had neither of these composers come to mind during _his_ naming? Why did Wilhelm Bach have to get there first?

(There were no famous female composers, which Kate had actually felt quite indignant about, especially when told that it made Andre indifferent to his only daughter's middle name. She had then decided it was imperative for her to give Emilia the middle name of a successful woman who had made some contribution to the classics, and quickly settled on Charlotte, being inordinately fond of _Jane Eyre_.)

"I do," said Jessica.

"Then," said the judge, "it is my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife."

Oscar blinked. Her _pleasure_? He'd never heard that one before.

"You may kiss."

Hayden visibly suppressed a laugh, and then said amusedly, "Thank you."

For some reason Oscar expected them to kiss properly - that is, for several seconds, with their mouths open. Maybe that was how it had been done at the numerous other weddings he'd been forced to attend - he couldn't remember. He was suddenly confronted, however, with a memory of his parents' you-may-kiss-the-bride kiss. He had been made to stand with the wedding party as ring bearer, and had spent most of the ceremony exchanging isn't-this-boring looks with the flower girl, his cousin Serena. But Oscar had started paying attention again when he heard the word "kiss". It was about the only part of the whole ceremony that had actually _meant_ something to him. He now remembered gazing up at them, thinking along the lines of, _Good, he'll have to stay and be my dad now._ And yes, it _had_ been what he would call a "proper" kiss.

Hayden and Jessica didn't do it like that, though. After thanking the judge, he just took a step towards her and smacked her on the mouth. It rather reminded Oscar of what Kate did when she was kissing Andre goodbye in the presence of her children. Then they exchanged the most loaded smiles Oscar had ever seen, and hugged tightly.

Oscar cut a glance at his mother, and fancied that she looked a tad disconcerted. Well, why not? Facially, Hayden resembled his father, and Jessica - in spite of her rounder figure and tendency to dress down - did look a lot like Dana. Their wedding was a hell of a lot more low-key than its precursor thirty-six years earlier, but even so, there must have been an air of familiarity about it for two of the people in that room. Oscar again began to feel uncomfortable. He happened to know, from various things that had been said to him at various times, that there were higher powers out there doing their best to get the order of the universe right. But clearly someone or something had really screwed up with Dana and Andre. Their children were supposed to be lovers, not brothers and sisters.

Then suddenly Oscar found that he was on his feet, following the rest of the party out of the room. The judge immediately stuck her head out of the door and asked for the next couple, which Oscar thought might have had a jarring effect on him if he were getting married, but neither Hayden nor Jessica seemed to notice. They both stood there looking a bit stunned for a moment, and then Hayden announced that he was going to call a taxi.

"How unromantic," remarked Emilia, fumbling around in her handbag.

"What'll you have at yours?" Lars asked dryly. "A horse-drawn carriage?"

"God no - that's so tacky," said Emilia, as she flipped open her cell phone. She then hit a button, put the phone to her ear and turned her back on everybody. "Hello, darling… Yes, we're all just _standing around_ outside now… _God_ yes, it was just _ghastly_…"

"Are you ok, Lars?" asked Oscar, noticing that his half-brother was looking rather distant.

"Oh, yeah, fine," Lars said distractedly, staring at where Kate was forcing Jessica to hug her while Andre graciously offered his congratulations. "Dad really seems to have come around to her, doesn't he? Or do you think he's just behaving himself?"

Oscar shook his head helplessly. "I don't know."

"He went _mad_ when Hayden called and told them about it. Not as mad as he went about me being gay, though."

Oscar looked searchingly at Lars. Since about the time he hit puberty, Hayden had decided that he was going to do whatever made him happy without caring what Andre thought, and now he seemed to be flourishing. The younger brother, however, had always been more introverted. Hell, he had spent about ten years in the closet, too afraid to tell his father who he really was. Lars really seemed to care what Andre thought.

"Y'know, he never stopped loving you," said Oscar.

"Yeah," said Lars. "I know."

Within moments of coming back from calling the taxi, Hayden was being talked to pretty intently by Peter. Oscar couldn't hear a word, and he could make no guess as to what might be being said. Knowing how well the two of them got on, he doubted that it was any version of the do-you-know-what-I'll-do-to-you-if-you-hurt-my-daughter speech. But then again, maybe it was. Peter and Jessica absolutely adored each other, he hated to see her upset - and for once in a way, Hayden was looking pretty serious. Then, to Oscar's faint surprise, Peter started patting his new son-in-law on the shoulder.

"Wow, things are getting pretty intense over there," remarked Jessica, approaching Oscar and Lars. "I hope Dad doesn't start hugging him. He got pretty emotional with me this morning - I hoped he'd got it all out of his system."

"That's no attitude, Jess," Lars said lightly, pulling her into a hug. "Welcome to the family - and thank you for making my brother so phenomenally happy."

Jessica started laughing, and said sarcastically, "Don't - you'll have me in tears."

It never ceased to amaze Oscar how well those two were getting along these days, knowing how much Jessica used to loathe the Wallance children (or the Mini-Stiffs, as she still sometimes called them). But then, he supposed it was hardly as extreme as sleeping with one of them, falling in love with and eventually marrying him.

"Hey." After a time, Oscar pulled his sister into a tight hug. He was feeling a lot of things, including a sense of regret that he was now _definitely_ the third rather than the second most important man in her life, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Have a really great time on your honeymoon. I won't be here when you get back."

He had hoped to be in LA by the end of the week, but now he seemed to have promised Danny that he'd go to him and his sick mother, which actually meant Detroit. Danny would undoubtedly offer him accommodation, and he'd be in a fragile state about his mother's health, topped with the guilt of not having seen very much of her since she divorced his father (in spite of knowing that it was more her fault than his - he'd been eight at the time). It looked rather as though it was going to be a precarious situation.

Jessica said, "Don't forget to look in on my house."

When she pulled out of the hug, Hayden was waiting patiently for her. He touched Jessica's arm lightly and said, "The taxi's here."

There was a lot more hugging before they actually went. Jessica managed to get herself sandwiched between Peter and Dana. Hayden hugged both of his siblings (his newfound closeness with Lars was _almost_ as surprising as Jessica's), and his parents, and then hovered awkwardly around Oscar.

"Hayd," said Oscar, proffering his right hand. "Congratulations."

Smiling weakly and accepting the handshake, Hayden said, "Does this mean I have your blessing?"

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you needed it."

"I don't. I want it, though."

Oscar didn't say anything else - and by the time he realised that he hadn't actually answered the question, Jessica had whisked Hayden away to the waiting taxi.

"Hey." Oscar felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned his head to see Dana smiling mom-ishly at him. "Are you ok, honey?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Well, your little sister just got married. I got a bit tearful when it was David."

"Mmm - and I seem to remember Doug got a bit tearful when it was _you_," said Oscar, although up until that point he had always put his uncle's damp eyes down to pride in his small daughter's ability to throw flowers around. "I'm ok, Mom. I… can't help feeling she's going to be all right."

Dana, for some reason, didn't seem happy with his answer. She didn't say anything - she just _looked_ at him. Oscar couldn't help wondering if there had been more to her question than met the eye. Was he ok with his half-brother and -sister marrying? No - they'd talked about that several times, and she knew exactly how he felt. Was he in danger of becoming deeply depressed, apparently still not having found the love of his life while his younger sister was so desperately happy? Yes, _that_ sounded like Dana-subtext to him.

"Are we going home, Mom?" asked Oscar. "Or do we have to… you know… socialise?"

"Well, I thought I'd invite them all back," said Dana.

"Right," said Oscar. "Well, they'll have to not mind me taking a shower."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The shower turned out to be a long one. He had hoped to empty his head, but gave up after about an hour. It just wasn't going to happen.

"Look," said Oscar, beginning to towel himself dry. He no longer cared how much of him the demon saw - it wasn't as though he was ashamed of his body, after all. "It's just hard, that's all, watching your little sister grow up. I still half think of her as the little girl who used to steal my clothes and kick a ball around the beach with me."

"The beach?" The demon looked faintly surprised. "_She'd_ say the park. Were you ever as happy as when you lived in LA with her and your parents?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Oscar," said the demon. "That's not _all_ it is. He's your brother."

Oscar shook his head. "But he's not, though, is he? He can't be - not anymore."

"She'll always be your sister, though."

"That's right."

"Cute," the demon said dryly.

Oscar ignored it, and crossed the room to where his clothes lay in a crumpled heap.

"What about the rest of them?" asked the demon. "What'll your relationship with _them_ be like?"

"Who, the Wallances?" Oscar said distractedly, climbing to his jeans. "Why don't _you_ tell _me_? You're the one with all the answers."

"Well," said the demon, "I shouldn't think it'll change much. You've always got along fine with Kate and Lars, and things will always be… _strained_ between you and Andre. But Emilia… you can't like what she thinks about your precious sister."

"They've never liked each other."

"In-laws often don't. Oh, stop fiddling with that thing," as Oscar drew the infamous engagement ring out of his jean pocket. "It's time you realised it's only a ring. It isn't _you_. Why does it have to mean anything? It's a piece of metal with a rock in it."

"It means something to _me_," Oscar said sharply.

"_What_ does it mean? That there must have been something there once? That there was a tiny glimmer of hope for them, and if things had gone differently you might not have been _quite_ such a cataclysmic mistake? You're pathetic, Oscar Wallance."

"It's Venkman."

"You should have never been born. You almost ruined everything."

"Oh, grow up," said Oscar, advancing towards the demon with the ring clutched in his hand, his knuckles blanching as his grip tightened. "Here, why don't _you_ take it? Maybe you can give it to a girlfriend or a boyfriend and get a life of your own instead of meddling in my sister's all the time."

"I don't want it," said the demon. "No one wants it, and no one wants _you_."

Oscar didn't contradict it. He knew it wasn't true, and probably the demon did too - but Oscar no longer cared what it thought.

"Just take it," he said. "You said yourself it doesn't mean anything. It's not _me_."

"Get it away from me."

"Oh, wait, I get it - is this harmful to you in some way?"

"Of course not."

"Who _are_ you, anyway?" asked Oscar. "Are you, like, the spirit of my dead grandmother or something?"

The demon idly examined its fingers. "Which one?"

"Well… either of my biological ones - they were both very pro-Barrett/Wallance."

"Well I'm not either of them," said the demon. "They were pro-Andre and Dana, which I'm sure as hell not, in case you hadn't noticed. It _never _should have happened."

"So you keep saying."

"You should sell that ring - give the money to cancer research or something."

"Please tell me who you are," said Oscar.

"I'm no one," said the demon. "I'm just what happens when something goes wrong."

Oscar's eyes narrowed. "You mean me."

"Get that thing away from me."

Oscar opened his palm and stared down at the ring, feeling a late onset of discomfort when he noticed the tiny gashes where the diamond had cut into his skin. He then pocketed the ring once again, saying, "I think I'll hang onto it."

Perhaps he shouldn't be carrying eight thousand-odd dollars around in his pocket. Oscar had a great many material possessions, a lot of them junk, but none of them was quite as useless to him as that accursed ring. But for some unfathomable reason, he didn't feel ready to part with it just yet.

Oscar did his parents the courtesy of picking up his wet towel, strode out of the bathroom and closed the door on the demon - he hoped, forever.

THE END


End file.
